Ballad
by Mintermist
Summary: Her gaze perused the confines of her prison for the thousandth time, and lingered on the man. Welts, blood and mud were plastered across his skin…clearly he was no friend of her captors. Which left one last question; who on God's Green Earth was he?
1. Pain

**Author's Note: Hullo! As I said, I was going to write a JaneJester fanfic. Just to let it be known, it has NOTHING to do with the Gunther one. It's as if, I dunno, they are stories from parallel universes or something lame like that, okay? This is a story of its own. And yes, I am still writing the Jane Gunther one. I write, like, a bajillion at the same time. :)**

**This one I also started writing REALLY late at night. I have issues with writing during the day, I think. As I said it's about Jester, and this one is solely about Jester and his... feelings...towards Jane. I don't know. I'm not done yet. It is kind of off to a slower start than the other one, because I was desperate to write _something_. That's why chapter one is so darn short! :D Expect, though, by the end, another nicely sappy story, written by a girl who needs to slow down her obsessions and choose between Gunther or Jester. And the next few chapters will be much, much longer. Enjoy!**

PS: Yes, yes, yes, I know... the (c) belongs to Martin Baynton. Unless I bring in my own character who is then mine. :D

**

* * *

****Pain**

Jester gazed out of his window, a heavy pain in his eyes as he watched Jane in the practice court. Five years had passed and they had all grown into their late teens, but Jester's feelings towards Jane had never changed. Not that he had ever had the courage to tell her, though. Not even now, at nineteen-years of age. He simply remained the best human friend he could possibly be, whenever Jane needed a listening ear.

Jester strummed a minor chord on his lute, a deep melancholy settling over him.

It was a rainy day, the sky weeping in torrents. The King had kindly given him the day off, but Sir Theodore had insisted that the squires spar in the rain. No matter the weather, if there were enemies at the gate, they had to be prepared. And so Jester watched a mud-covered Jane sadly.

"_Tales of Unrequited Love_," he quietly sang the first line of one of his most melancholy ballads. His heart felt heavy. That was the easiest way to describe his feelings. A 'tale of unrequited love', considering that Jane would _never_ see him as anything but a friend, no different from Rake or Smithy.

He sighed, and put down his instrument. It was perhaps not the best thing to do at the moment, he told himself firmly. But there was not much else _to_ do on this rainy day, and he found himself settling back on the window ledge, gazing out as Jane and Gunther struck at each other. Their exercise had something of a rugged grace to it, as they moved in perfect rhythm, like a gypsy dancer, and Jester felt a pang of envy. Jane and Gunther got to spend so much time together...even if they spent most of their time bickering.

A sudden spark of an idea to quench his boredom lit up Jester's bright mind, and he pulled a sheaf of parchment towards him, as well as a quill. Dipping the quill in some ink, he quickly began to sketch the dance-like movements he saw, and soon found he was enjoying himself. His quill began to take on the sparring shapes of Jane, who he drew with great care and tenderness, and Gunther. Around the picture, he began to write in an elegant script such as those in the finest books of the king. He had no idea what the words would come to, but soon found the beginning of a ballad forming on the side of his sketch.

Jester smiled in spite of himself. The ballad sang of red hair and green eyes and grace with a blade, as well as a pretty face and kind smile. And yet, it never once named its subject. Shaking his head, Jester slipped it among the many papers on his desk, and picked up his lute again. No one could ever see the drawing. The thought that Jane might see it made him squirm, and as a last comfort that that would never happen, he tossed it towards the grate. The words to the ballad would come to him if he felt a need of them.

Strumming a few more chords, Jester moved away from the window and began playing again, yet his pain had not lessened. It had just been appeased for the moment, ready to strike back.


	2. Silence

**Author's Note: Back again with the second chapter! I think that I actually know where this is going to go. But I'm not telling. Not yet at least. But I will have it be known that chapter three (3) is currently in progress. I think that there are about...four lines so far? Yes! Because _that_ is how you write a bestseller, folks. Just kidding, just kidding. XD**

**This chapter is, I think, mostly dialogue. I hope you don't get bored. Please comment and criticize my work. Why? Because I said so. I don't know. Just do it. I guess it's the whole "constructive criticism" thing. Blah. I want to go write more Jane and the Dragon and Protector of the Small fanfic. And draw. Draw lots and lots of pictures. Of Jane and Gunther and Jester and Pepper and Rake and Smithy and Kel and Dom and Cleon and...well, yeah. You get the picture. I'll come back soon-ish to load up the third chapter. Or maybe just when it's done. Cheers! **

**Silence**

He sat in silence, in the company of his own thoughts. His mood had begun to darken with the twilight, and as the sky had grown dark, there wasn't a sound to be heard from the practice rings.

Above him, he could hear Jane moving around her room, perhaps muttering mild curses under her breath, or humming to herself. After a bit, all of the noises stopped, and Jester supposed that she had gone for supper.

"Having trouble rhyming, Jester?" He turned around sharply, and blushed at the sight of a soaked Jane leaning against his doorframe. At seventeen, she had grown tall and pretty, but he knew that under that mask she was strong and determined.

"No, well...not _exactly_..." he said, nervously thrusting his hands deep into his pockets. He averted his gaze, and looked down at his shoes.

"Oh...it was just that I did not hear, well, _anything_...no ballads...not even lute music, for a long time, and I wondered if you were alright." Jester shrugged.

"Sometimes silence is one of the sweetest sounds of all, Jane," he said softly.

"And sometimes it means that something is wrong," she countered, reaching out and playfully pulling Jester's hat down over his eyes. He shook his head.

"It's... nothing, Jane...just something very...personal." he smiled at her crookedly, but she wasn't convinced. His smile did not meet his eyes.

"Please, Jester," she said, putting a hand on his arm, "If something is troubling you, I would rather know." He could feel his arm tingling at her touch, and sighed.

"Jane, even if you knew, there would be nothing you could do to help," _Because I _know_ that you don't feel the same way,_ he added bitterly to himself.

"Oh, well, alright," she said dejectedly, and began to turn around. Jester couldn't stand it- the sight of her turning away.

"Jane, wait," he said, and she turned back quickly. _Invent something, Jester, invent something now!_ He urged himself. A sudden thought gave him the answer.

"It was just...well...as you may know, my family are traveling players. From Italy. The thing is that I have not heard news of them in quite some while, and I find this worrying. Usually word makes its way to me every few moths or so, but it has been almost a year and a half." This was true, and something that he had been nagging at him recently.

"Perhaps there's still something we could-" Jester shook his head at her.

"I see nothing I could do, Jane," he said, "Tracking them would be... nearly impossible, especially on my own." Jane cocked her head and crossed her arms indignantly.

"What do you mean 'on your own'? What am I here?" she said sharply. "You don't expect me to send you off on your own, do you?"

Jester looked up suddenly. Two conflicting feelings rose in him- hope and fear. Of the two, fear smothered his hope.

"No, Jane. I couldn't let you do that. Anyways, I would need the King's permission first, and also..." he trailed off. He would need everything from supplies to horses to coin- all of which he had none.

"Have you at least asked him?" Jane asked quietly. Jester shook his head.

"No, not yet. But, I do plan to..."

"Then let's go right now! There might not be another chance."

"Jane, uh...now?" Jester hesitated.

"Yes, you fool!" Jane laughed, "It is now or never." Grabbing his arm, she dragged him out the door of his room, into the rain. Jester submitted to it in silence. _Here we go..._he shook his head. It had just begun.

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	3. Request

**Author's Note: Hey again, I'm back. Like I promised, I would write the next part and post it today...yay! I actually did it! And guess what? Instead of only one, or even two new chapters, you are getting _three brand new chapter_s! Oooh. Feel special? I did this all for you, you know, writing them from six thirty to ten thirty PM, after my art class. So I hope you enjoy the mild...or perhaps major...cheesiness and beginning of fluffiness. Yes. Finally! Fluff is going to start coming in soon between the next, like, five or six chapters if I manage to get that far. But that will only happen if you comment. If you don't comment, I will feel like a loser and not write more. So if you like this story, and want it to continue, _please_ comment. Even if all you say is "Hi" or "Write More" or "Blah" or "I eat socks" or something really random like that. Sorry. I'm on one of those "Late-Night-Early-Morning-Crash-And-Burn-Energy Rushes. I should go sleep more.**

**Yeah, well, this chapter is a little longer than the last one...and...well, let's just say that the other two are probably double or triple or four times as big as chapter one was. Yeah! Mabe even four times as big. I didn't cheap out and do little blips of writing that leave you hanging while I sat there and laugh at your frustration of lazy people. I'm not like that. I won't ever leave my stories untouched for over a month, unless they are already complete. ;)  
Blah...it's kind of funny...this story, even though it's incomplete, is more than double the size of the Gunther/Jane one is, according to my computer. Poor Gunther. I'll come back to you soon. Shhh. Don't cry. You will have more stories than Jester will. ;)**

**Argh. I didn't sleep enough. It's, like, nine something and I didn't get to sleep until probably two or three, and then I was nuts and woke up at six. Not normal, but I had to make _sure_ that I would be awake enough to see JatD. But, I'm paying for my late night now. And then I have my art class later. And I have to write more of this and the Gunther story and the Kel story. Gaah. Well, please comment. I was exhausted by the time I was done, and plus I was using my laptop, so if there are any spelling mistakes or incomplete sentances or things just _don't_ make any freaking sense, comment and let me know. Just a warning, though. If you live in the states, I use mixes of Canadian and American spelling. I don't like using one or the other. So there may be mistakes in your eyes due to that. So, yeah. I talk too much. Just ignore me now. Go read. XP**

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**Request**

Jester's request for an audience with the King was, to his great surprise, granted unhesitatingly. Jane and him waited patiently outside the door until Sir Ivon admitted them. The knightmaster's eyebrows were raised, but he said nothing as he motioned them to go in.

Upon entering the grand chamber, Jester felt slightly nervous. Small beads of perspiration slid down the back of his neck. _Be calm_, he told himself, _be calm and composed. You have done more trying things in the presence of the king...and Jane._ But still, his stomach squirmed, as he searched every square inch of himself for courage.

The King sat in his throne, accompanied by the queen on his left and Sir Theodore on his right. Jester felt his legs turn to jelly at the sight of them, but managed to steady himself enough for the walk across the hall.

"Ah, Jane," said the King jovially, as the two teenagers bowed, "Jester...do come in, come in. Dismal weather we are having, wouldn't you say?" he smiled kindly at them.

"I am afraid, though, Jane," said Sir Theodore, "that if you have come to complain about the training conditions, I am sorry to tell you that the matter has already been discussed and agreed on between Sir Ivon and myself. Squire Gunther felt otherwise. He has already been here and gone." He nodded his head to the door. Jane turned to the King.

"Actually, your Majesty, we have come with a...request... for Jester, here," Jane looked sideways at her friend, and discreetly nudged him. He blushed at her touch.

"Er...yes, um," Jester stumbled, growing flustered.

Though he spent most of his time in the royal presence of his King and Queen, he had never asked anything of them over the past twelve years. In return for his services, he had been educated in the Higher Arts of reading, writing, singing and the like, as well as fed and lodged for free. It had been a fair trade, and Jester had never wanted to ask for more. He feared that it would seem ungrateful for all that the King and Queen had done for him.

"Well, you see, your Majesties...as you may remember, oh, twelve years ago, or so, a troupe of traveling players from the south passed through Kippernium. They were honest but...erm...poor people. Among them was a young boy whose parents could not provide for him- or, rather, for me. So, your Majesties, as you will recall, my mother and father brought me here and...well... begged, I suppose, that you take me into your services. And, you being the King you are, accepted and took me on as the Court Jester," Jester glanced at Jane for support, and she gave the tiniest of nods. _Go on_, she seemed to say silently. It gave him a length of courage, and he continued.

"Well, um... over the years I still was able to keep in touch with my parents, you see," he continued, his eyes still locked onto Jane's. "I learnt that I now have several young siblings, and that my family is more...comfortably off... than before. Every six months, or so, they would send a message to me. This was how I knew that they were safe and well." He turned back to the king, his eyes darkening.

"But, you see, your Majesties, it has been almost a year and a half, and I have not heard the slightest whisper of their whereabouts or welfare..." he trailed off, his eyes looking up at his King pleadingly.

"I see," King Caradoc said gravely. "This does not please me, Jester, especially at this time. I would hate to lose such a fine subject during a season such as this. But," he said, his eyes softening as he turned to his wife. The Queen nodded ever so slightly, and the king continued. "But, I do see the urgency in this matter. We could not have the morale of our Court Jester down. It would look bad. I'd feel half naked, as the morale of the whole castle would die. And then where would we be?" He smiled tightly. "So, by my royal power, I give you, Jester, permission to search for the whereabouts of your family for a fortnight, as well as a fortnight to return." Jester grinned.

"W-why, _thank you_, sir...err...Your Majesty. I shall be there and back again quicker than you could ask for a ballad. And I shall bring some of those back with me as souvenirs, if I am lucky!" The king nodded.

"You are dismissed, Jester, Jane." Jane looked up suddenly.

"Your Majesty, wait a moment, please!" The King turned, a quizzical look on his brow. Jane continued quickly, before he could remark on her sudden comment. "Think of it, sir. Jester...well...he has had no training in self-defense! What would happen if, say...he was attacked?" Jester frowned. _What does she think that she is doing?_ He demanded himself. _First telling me to go and ask the king to do something I would be terrified of doing normally, but then, right when I do what she wanted me to do, she starts going out and pointing out the fact that I would be helpless against attacks? What is it with women...?_

"That is a true fact, Jane," the king said slowly. "What are you planning?" Jane put her hands behind her back and looked straight at the floor.

"If I may speak freely, your Majesty?"

"You may," the King said, the icy, regal tone of a true monarch in his voice.

"Well, your Majesty, it occurred to me that perhaps Jester here should have..erm...well, an..._escort_? Perhaps a knight, or a few of the servants, to ensure his protection and safe return? Because, just imagine the dangers for a lone traveler- bandits, beasts, getting lost, being injured on the road. In my...studies, Gunther and I have learnt that it is best to travel in small groups, to avoid such disasters."

"She does have a legitimate point, your Majesty," said Sir Theodore.

"I see," the King said. "And who, pray, would you suggest on sending on this mission, Jane?" Jane turned to Sir Theodore.

"Think wisely, Jane," he said cautiously. Jane closed her eyes a moment.

"Well, you, Sir Theodore, and Sir Ivon, are indispensable to the castle at the moment with out numbers so few. Rake, Pepper and Smithy...well, they could not be removed, either. And that leaves...Gunther and I."

"Your powers of deduction amaze me, Jane," Jester muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He said it so softly that only she could hear. She struggled not to laugh.

"Gunther, I am afraid, has been given some chores to accomplish around the castle to hone his patience and humility. So that, Jane, leaves..."

"Me," she concluded. "Yes, I will go." Jester felt his heart leap in two different directions. One part of him wanted to whoop with joy and perform a summersault. The other wanted to shake her by the shoulders and tell her to stay put. He bit his tongue, though, to keep from saying anything foolish. He ought to be glad for Jane's help.

"What about Dragon?" Sir Theodore asked finally, breaking the silence. His voice was gentle, but carried a double-edged sword to it. Jester knew that he was trying to make a point. Now that they were grown, Jester being about as tall as Sir Theodore and Jane not much shorter, Dragon would not be able to carry them both for long distances. His wings would tire after a a long flight. And in addition, what would they do if they were spending a night at the inns they passed? Dragon could hardly come with them, and townspeople who didn't know him would be terrified.

"I-I think that it would be better if Dragon stayed here. To protect the castle in my stead." Jane said at last.

The king nodded, seated back in his throne. His fingertips touched, creating a triangular shape.

"So may it be," he said.

"Who said that you could do that, Jane?" Jester snapped as they left the throne room. He crossed his arms and looked down at her, desperately fighting the urge to kiss her.

"Would you prefer that I didn't come along?" Jane asked quietly, her green eyes meeting his misty blue ones.

"No! Not at all! I...just...it's...well...it's complicated, okay?" Jester sighed. He had said it more sharply than he had meant to, and the result showed on Jane's face. It looked as if she had been slapped. He mentally kicked himself. He didn't like it when he got angry...especially not with Jane. He could never stay angry with her for long, but he knew that she could fume for hours. _Jester, you manky git! _He berated himself, frowning. Jane, misinterpreting it, returned the look with a blazing glare.

"Fine," she snapped back, turning on her heel. "Keep it to yourself." Jester watched her retreating back. _Dammit!_ He threw a hand to his forehead. _Jester you fool, you complete and utter fool!_ Feeling the complete idiot, he ran after her.

"Jane," he said softly, when he was an arms-length away from her. When she didn't turn and kept walking, he grabbed her wrist.

Realizing what he was doing, Jester blushed profusely and dropped her hand.

"Jane," he said. "I'm well...I'm sorry. I let my thoughts get in the way. I guess it's just that I wouldn't...wouldn't want anything to happen to you. You know that, right? Do you realize how _terrible_ I would feel, losing my best friend? And if it was _my_ fault that she was there to begin with? Yes, well, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. Heh...that...umm...well, it doesn't usually happen, does it? With the snapping and all, I mean." Jane smiled at him, and Jester felt himself wilt in relief. She didn't hate him!

"Not often, you fool," she said softly, shaking her head. Her red curls bounced, and Jester was overcome by a longing to touch them. "You truly are a good friend to me...better than I deserve." Jane brushed a lock of _his_ golden blond hair out of his eyes, and their eyes met properly. Jester was filled with a thrill that went up his spine deliciously. "I'll see you tomorrow, at first light," Jane said. "Be ready, and we'll leave as soon as we can."


	4. Departure

****

Author's Note: Yes. I told you I wrote three new chapters. Don't you feel lucky? Maybe I'll write another three today...who knows how long my creative flow of inspiration and non-writer's block will go on? Mygosh I need a coffee or something. My brain is fried. XP

**But, hey. I just thought of something (last night- I'm not thinking much right now- ). After reading some marvellous fanfic of Protector of the Small/Beka Cooper/Jane and the Dragon last night, the thought occured to me that if you have questions, why not post them in your comments? And then I'll answer them in my author notes? It'll give me a reason to come on here practically every day. And then I'll write more. I don't know. What do you think?**

**Blah. I don't know when to be quiet and just let you read, do I? Do people even read my silly author notes? Ahaha. If you do, you just brightened my day. But, yeah. So this chapter is long. Including my beginning blabbing, it's probably over two thousand words now. So I shout shut up now, shouldn't I? Yeah. I'll go write more, or draw, or sleep. Sleeping sounds good...Bye!**

**Departure**

They wanted to make their departure go as quickly and as smoothly as possible, without ceremony or talk. Jester rose at dawn, when it was still dark out, and he hastily packed his things into a leather bag. _Clothes, lute, paper, ink, quills, shoes, walking stick..._Jester mentally ticked off the personal things that he would be taking. He scrounged around his room for anything he felt he and Jane would find useful, taking a bit of this and that. He was glad that the rain had thinned and stopped overnight. Their journey would be made easier.

A knock on his door made him look up, and he opened it to see Jane standing in the torchlight. She was carrying a bundle of nondescript grey cloth, though there was a dull black thing and a belt as well.

"Here," she said, shoving it into his arms. "It's just a tunic and hose and such, as well as armor. Just a lightweight kind, though. More like strong padding for practice. You'll be glad of it once we start riding." Jester unfurled the bundle. The tunic and hose were plain but well sown, made of an obviously sturdy material. The armour, he noted with distaste, very much resembled the armour that Gunther wore, except with a dull black tinge to it, instead of reddish-brown.

"It's...well...Jane, I must say that..."

"Yes, yes. I know. It's plain, and the armour resembles Gunther's armour. But, it's standard light armour- all that Sir Ivon had to spare. It's quite comfortable for riding, though," Jane assured him quickly. Jester cast her a disbelieving look, eyebrows raised.

"You do remember that I am by no means a knight, don't you?"

"Oh, just put it on, you fool! Sir Ivon was generous." Jane said. Jester mock bowed in resignition.

"As you command, milady. Just...erm...wait there a moment. Please." He returned moments later, wearing the grey tunic and black hose, with the armor overtop. It was strange to see him without his hat and blue costume, which was the trademark of his profession. Instead, he simply carried the hat and the bundle of blue clothes, stuffing them into his sack. His blond hair shone in the torchlight.

"Ta-da!" He threw his hands in the air. Jane laughed, as he pretended to duel with an imaginary sword and ended up tripping himself.

"Come on, you," she said, "Let's go get our packs from Pepper. We won't get far without them, if you keep falling over your own feet like that!"

Pepper, of course, was already up and busy in the kitchens. She had risen before the moon had set, and had already packed them their rations. Hard biscuits, dried and preserved fruit, nuts and hard barley bread, oatcakes, a little pot of honey to sweeten a meal, water skeins filled to the brim, and all other manner of hardy journeyman food was packed into a large rucksack. There was also a purse of gold and silver coin given generously by the King, hidden in a secret pouch. They were to use it to pay for accommodations and fresh food whenever possible.

Everyone, it seemed, had given a parting gift of some sort. Smithy had thrown in an extra shortsword, as well as a tent in case they were stuck somewhere, and Rake had picked some healing herbs in case of illness. Sir Ivon gave advice to the two about what to do if an animal attacked and gave them flint and tinder, and Sir Theodore chose the horses for them.

The two horses were a wonderful pair. Jane's own horse, Cleaver, a large, powerfully built mount, and a sturdy mare bred by Sir Ivon would be their mounts. The mare was sweet tempered; yet she was fearless and hardy to the core. As Sir Theodore led the mare to Jester, he told him that her name was Valiant.

"She is a fighter," Sir Theodore said, "descended from the ancient mountain ponies that once thrived in this valley. Treat her courteously and she will take you far." Jester accepted the reins at a nod from the knightmaster, and gently began stroking the horse's nose.

"Well, hello there, old girl," he said softly. "Valiant, was it? I'm sure you are, both in name and spirit... though, uh... we _are_ only just acquainted. Well, it is a pleasure. I am Jester." The mare butted her head against his chest, and Jester continued murmuring to her. Sir Theodore raised his eyebrows and smiled at Jester.

"Interesting way you have with animals, Jester, though I suppose you have not had to much experience with them?"

"In all honesty, Sir Theodore," Jester said, "I know only what I have learnt from Smithy- you know, the riding part and basic care. Not much, though, overall or anything, no." Jane laughed, and mounted up on Cleaver.

"Well, I shall teach you what you do not yet know. Are you ready to leave yet?" she asked.

"Yes, I-" He was cut off by the soft rustle of wings.

"Leave? And where, exactly, are you shortlives going, might I ask?" They looked up to see Dragon perched on the wall, regarding them imperiously. His great green head was cocked to one side.

"Dragon...erm...good morning...and...well, Jane? Would you care to explain?" Jester stammered. Dragon, over the past five years, though he had not grown much bigger, he was just as daunting to the castle staff as he had been before. With his long, whiplike tail, he could wreak havoc by simply walking.

"Explain _what_ to me, Jane? Where are you and the jingly-boy going?" Dragon peered forwards.

"Well, Dragon, we are going on a...a journey."

"What d'you mean, a 'journey'?" Dragon asked.

"I mean, greenlips, a _journey_. As in, say, a quest. We are going somewhere on horseback to find something."

"What are you going to find?" Dragon asked again.

"Dragon...uh... it is a somewhat... _sensitive_ thing," Jester said. "We are going to find...well, my family." Dragon shook his massive head.

"But that makes no sense!" He exclaimed. "Why go on horseback and spend a long amount of time looking for one of your shortlife _homes_ to go knock on the door to? Why not go on dragonback?" Jane glanced at Jester, an exasperated expression on her face.

"Because, you overgrown newt, Jester's family are _travelling_ players-"

"Gypsies, you know," Jester cut in. "As in, they don't _have_ one of our "shortlife homes". They travel around. That is why we have to and search for them."

"But...I still don't get it. Why can't you go on dragonback? Why horses? They are _so_," he tossed a glance at Cleaver and Valiant, "so _slow_. With their little shortlife legs. It'll take you forever!" He tossed a clawed paw in the air in frustration.

"We have to go on horseback, Dragon, because Jester and I are too much of a burden for you to carry north and south of here. Two of us would be too heavy, now that we are older. It exerts you enough when you and I go on a long patrol." Jane said.

"So?" Dragon sounded miffed, his tone arrogant and snobbish.

"And besides," Jane said, "imagine if we come across villagers, or Jester's family, and all they see is a dragon descending upon them? They will be terrified! They will chase you out! Or, even, what if we come across a dragonslayer? We don't know if there are any left in the world, and we can't risk it. No. You need to stay here. For your own safety and ours. Besides, with my absence, we need you to stay on guard of the castle."

Dragon opened his mouth to argue, but Sir Theodore, who had been observing silently, held up a hand.

"Jane speaks the truth. Her logic has been approved by the King and myself. You are to stay here, Dragon. You are forbidden to follow them.

As well, this is, in a way, a test of Jane's ability as a knight. She will have to use every skill she has acquired- tracking, resourcefulness, management, strength, patience, and more. This is part of her training, as well as a way to help Jester. And so, Dragon, as it has been agreed, you are not to interfere with this training. Do I make myself clear?"

Dragon snorted and bared his teeth.

"You shortlives...all so centered around duty." Plumes of smoke escaped from his nostrils. He glanced from Jane to Jester to Sir Theodore and back again. "Fine!" He took to the air. "But if _one_ thing happens to Jane- if she is scraped or bruised when she returns, first you, Sir Rustylegs, and then you, jingle-boy, will be charred to a crisp. Do I have your word, Jester, that you will keep her safe." Jester glanced at Jane, who rolled her eyes.

"Very well, Dragon," he said loudly, and then more quietly, as Dragon flew back to his cave, he muttured to Jane, "Though I think that it will be _you_ who ends up doing most of the guarding."

She snorted, and with a final wave to Sir Theodore, the two cantered out of the gate.

"You've been awfully quiet, Jester," Jane said, as they slowed their horses to a trot. She moved up beside him, their horses' gaits matching perfectly. By late afternoon, they were half a league away from Kippernia Castle, and throughout the day Jester had remained silent. Birds had sung in trees, and they had passed a few farmers in fields, but he remained lost in thought. Jester looked up now, his eyes thoughtful and curiously intent.

"Oh..wh-? I'm sorry, Jane...I was just thinking...you know...silly things. But, tell me... why do you think that the King accepted my request? I mean, I would never have dreamt that this _could actually_ happen, you know? I always wished that it would, but it never did. But now, here we are! We are already far away from Kippernia, riding off in search of gypsies, no less..." he shook his head. "It just seems like... a dream. Like something that would happen in a ballad." Jane smiled at him, and he felt his heart perform a cartwheel.

"Jester...I think that the only reason that you are so shocked about it is because you never _let_ yourself think that it could actually happen. I mean, why wouldn't the King grant something for you? He always asks you to do things, but _you_ almost never ask _him_ of anything." Jester shrugged. There was some truth in what she said. "And, besides...did you even ask before now?" Jane asked, her green eyes making him blush as they stared at him so quizzically.

"Well...err...no...I suppose I didn't...I didn't ask, that is." Jane smiled and cocked her head to the side.

"Jester, you make me laugh. For a performer, sometimes you are so timid...maybe next time you should just speak your mind!" Jester felt his blood freeze over. _Too timid_?

Jane laughed at the expression on his face, and nudged Cleaver into a faster gait. "Come on, I'll race you to that mill, there!" She hollered over her shoulder. Jester half-heartedly spurred Valiant into a canter, his mind and heart elsewhere, as he let Jane win.


	5. Timid

**Author's Note: Hi again. Well, you're still reading? Didn't get bored? Yay! That makes me happy. If you are liking my fanfic, there is a chance that if I start writing a _real_ book, people will enjoy that too. That is, though, as long as I don't get lazy and as long as I actually get around to writing it (lol). If I don't write for a few days, please scream at me through my comments page. I'll be able to check it from my cell if I don't have access to a computer. I'll know that people want more, so then I will write on my laptop and wait until I have a computer with internet (yeah, my laptop has been disconnected from the Web. _Curses!_) to upload it. And _ta-da!_ You'll have your next chapter. Or next few. And lots of fluff is coming up. I know exactly what will happen. But you have to wait. If I told you, that would be like getting presents before "Santa" came.**

**Hey, yeah... just a warning: THIS CHAPTER IS _LONG!_ Seriously. If I round it up to the nearest thousand or whatever, it's basically four thousand words. O.o And it has a lot going on in it, cause it's a whole day of travelling. But this is good practice and very entertaining for me to write. I don't know...maybe even if no one reads this, I'll still keep writing it and make it go on to some insane amount of chapters (like, thirty or sixty or ninety-nine! That would be funny...XD) just for my own enjoyment. **

**Oh, and just another note: the first song is (c) of me. I wrote it for another Jane fanfic I came close to writing, and then discarded. But I thought the song was random. So I salvaged it. So no stealing. Unless you ask me. Then, if I say yes, you can take it and rip it apart and make it better. I'm a pianist but not a songwriter (at least not yet ;) ) And, of course, the second song is (c) of Martin Baynton or Weta or whoever wrote it in real life. In JatD itself, I think Baynton's website said that Dragon wrote it. So it is Dragon's song...JK, JK!**

**Alright, I need to go get a late brekkie/lunch thing, so I'll come back soon with more chapters. Ciao!**

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**Timid**

_Timid_. The word rolled around his mind like a marble, as their horses trotted briskly down the dirt road. _Am I too timid_? Jester wondered. The sun was setting fast, the sky an explosion of colour. Violent reds and oranges, with streaks of black and yellow, painted the canvas of space where the sun set. Dark storm clouds loomed in the far east, behind Dragon's mountain range. Off in the distance, Jester could hear the haunting cry of a wolf. Jane shivered.

"We should find an inn soon," Jester said finally, stopping Valiant completely. Jane nodded wordlessly.

"I think that the closest one from here is...Muskhorn? It's a small hamlet- I went there once with Sir Theodore- and I think that there were...three inns? The _Hunt and Crown_, _The Sleeping Herring_ and _The Muskhorn Inn_. We should probably head over there."

"Which way?" asked Jester. He was sore all over, and longed for a soft bed.

"Just a few miles south from here- nothing too far. We should be able to make it there before it gets too dark." Jester nodded, and they kicked their mounts forwards.

Before long, they caught a glimpse of the twinkling lights of a small village up ahead.

"Nice memory, Jane," Jester grinned wryly. His stomach growled loudly, and Jane snorted.

"And remember it when your belly is full of steaming soup and soft bread and sweet ale!" Jane grinned back.

They went forwards at a comfortable canter, but it took a while to get to the lights. They played the illusion of being close, yet no matter how quickly they pressed the horses, it seemed as if a century passed before they arrived at the gates. Their stomachs were screaming out in hunger, though they did not want to waste their rations by eating their precious food on their first day.

Jester pounded on the gate with his fist.

"Let us in!" he hollered. A window up in the gatehouse opened and a wizened old man peered down at them. He had wrinkled skin and busy white eyebrows, and his eyes were such a bright blue that Jester could see their colour even in the night.

"Who are yeh young folk, an' what's yer business 'ere in Muskhorn?" He wheezed in a squeaky voice.

Jester bowed his head from atop of Valiant, but it was Jane who spoke.

"I am Squire Jane Turnkey, soon-to-be-knight of King Caradoc's guard. This is the jester of the court, and my good friend. Our business is our own, but I assure you that it is lawful and done in the name of the King. We are simply passing through Muskhorn, and need only a place to rest for the night." The gatekeeper sighed.

"Very well. I suppose that yer that girl with the dragon up at Kipper, though yer friend here... _he_ don't look like much of a jester, if yeh ask me." The gatekeeper disappeared from the window.

"Not much of a jester?" Jester murmured to Jane, and she grinned.

"I suppose that it's the lack of the bell-hat, you know. With the whole armour thing, it makes you look more like some other squire." Jane whispered back.

"Oh...right," he replied, as the gate swung open.

"Yeh mind yerselves," the gatekeeper said sourly, his lowborn accent twingeing every word. "And don't yeh be causin' any trouble, yeh hear me?" Jane assured him that they would behave, as they rode their mounts through the gate. The loud clang behind them of a closing gate told them that they should keep moving before the gatekeeper told them to "Scurry off", so they began to walk down the cobbled streets of the hamlet.

"So this is Muskhorn, is it?" Jester eyed the place. It was a compact village- more of a tiny city. The streets were clean and all interconnected, and the buildings narrow, cramped and whitewashed. Red flowers grew in flowerboxes at windows, and wooden shutters kept the wind out of rooms. There were bright, hanging signs at the darkened doorways of shops, and candles in a few open windows above them. Their horses had to move in single file to fit through the side streets, as they made their way to the main square.

The main square held many carts and stalls, now empty, which Jester was certain were the stalls of travelling merchants. In the daytime, they would be packed and bustling with people and produce. Minstrels would play their lutes and lyres and pipes in the center, and flocks of peasants would gather around to listen.

"There is one of the inns," Jane said at last, pointing to a larger building. There was glass in the windowpanes, and light, music and laughter coming from the inside first floor. A large, round sign swung above the door, depicting a snoring silver herring on a platter.

"_The Sleeping Herring_," Jester laughed. "Not quite a creature you would know as a 'sleeping' one, what with what the village does with them, with the smoking and selling and all."

They made their way to the inn, took their packs and tied the horses securely to one of the posts. They would have to be quick in getting them to the stables, to avoid them getting stolen, and so they quickly entered the inn.

Inside, the inn was homey and warm. There were little, round tables everywhere, each with a lit candle. A fire roared in the grate, over which meat was slowly being turned and cooked thoroughly. Patrons of the inn's pub lounged at the tables, as pretty waitresses served drinks and meals. There was a long bar at one end of the room, around which many men were drinking themselves silly, which was occupied and run by a woman with bright, auburn curls. There was also a well-lit staircase to the left of it, leading up to the rooms.

As they entered, a round-faced man wearing a simple brown tunic and matching hose approached them. He was balding, but the little amount of hair that he had was brown and grey, with a wispy quality to it. He had a jovial appearance, with a bit of a round stomach and a healthy, ruddy red glow to his face. It was immediately obvious that the inn was prosperous enough.

He greeted them with a warm smile, and Jester felt at once that this was an honest, trustworthy man.

"Good evenin', fair lady, good sir. I don't believe we have met, yet. Allow me t'introduce myself. My name is Torval Fuller. I own this inn, here, _The Sleeping Herring_. Been in the family on my wife's side for many a generation. I hope that you will find yourselves comfortable during your visit here in Muskhorn." He nodded his head to each of them.

"Glad to make your acquaintance, Master Torval," Jester replied, shaking the man's hand. "Allow me to introduce myself and my companion," he gestured to Jane. "This is Lady Jane Turnkey, a squire in King Caradoc's guard. I myself am nothing but the Court Jester, and go simply by the name of my profession."

"We have come on an errand," Jane said slowly, "from Kippernia Castle, and came to ask the price of a room here."

"Six and one half coppers, milady," Torval said proudly. "An' a cheaper price you'll not find in this town. Most of the innkeepers are slimy little..." He trailed off.

Jane pulled out the purse given by the King, and took out one silver coin.

"Keep the extra," she said, "It will pay for our food for the night, I am sure." Torval nodded, smiling.

"Thank you. One of our stable hands will bring your horses to the stables. Feel free to have a seat and order something warm to eat. When you are done, that is my wife, Mathilde, working there behind the bar. She'll show you to your room when you are ready. Feel free to go to her or myself for anything." Torval nodded his head, and went off to send out a stable boy, and to alert his wife.

Feeling satisfied and hungry, Jester and Jane sat down at a table near the hearth. Their aching limbs and muscles sighed in happiness of a rest, and for a long moment neither of them spoke. A waitress came, and they ordered politely- leek and rabbit stew, fresh bread, sweetened ale and a pecan pie as a desert.

"So, Jane," Jester smiled across the table at her as the waitress left.

"So, Jester," she replied, grinning. "Have you finally realized that we have travelled one whole day? We're actually doing something? We're already one day in!" Jane grinned at him, as he pretended ignorance and shock.

"Really, Jane? I had no idea!" The two laughed in friendly companionship, and then grew silent and grave.

"So, Jester...where do you want to start? Looking, that it?" Jane bit her lip, as Jester's eyes darkened.

"Well, the last letter I ever received said that they were in a neighbouring kingdom...Norrium, I think it was. They were playing in the court of King...Baltor the Second, was it? In Norria, the capital...I was thinking that we could go there to start. Someone _must_ remember them. Perhaps we could find out where they were headed next?" Jester looked hopeful. Jane looked down at the tablecloth.

"Umm...Jester?" She asked. She leant forwards and took his hand. He looked up, startled, but didn't say anything. His eyes were wide and held a hint of something. "Wh-what...what if we don't find anything. In the fortnight the King has allowed us, I mean? What do we do?" Jane asked softly. Jester's eyes darkened even more. _Don't get your hopes up at a single touch of your hand, fool_, he told himself sternly. He sighed.

"Then we go back, Jane. It's as simple as that. We head back to Kippernia."

"But, Jester! After all of that? All of that running around and out of the kingdom?" Jane quivered with emotion. "No! We should stay until we find them. I'll have failed you otherwise!"

"What are you saying, Jane?" Jester clenched her hand tightly in his. "We can't disobey the King! He gave us his permission for a fortnight there and another back, and we shouldn't betray his trust! No. We go back after a fortnight, no matter what. And, Jane. Don't say that again. You would never, ever fail me, no matter what you did in the end. Ever." _Because I love you_, he finished silently to himself. Jane was right. He was too shy, too timid, too scared for his own good sometimes. _But only because I don't want to hurt you or anyone else!_ He thought fiercely. Sighing, he let go of her hand. "Look, our food is coming."

After they had eaten and drunk, the inn's pub was rowdy and restless. Mathilde, the innkeeper's wife came over.

"You two might want to go up to your room, soon. This is about the hour that the men feel violent, and brawls can break out." She made a face. "The boys are a rowdy bunch under the drink, and not much but entertainment can calm them down. It's a sad thing that the minstrels are out of town." She shook her head sadly.

"Would I be able to help, madam?" Jester asked suddenly. He would _not_ be timid and let the daunting threat of a brawl make him go up to the room.

"Oh, yes! That's right! You're the Jester from King Caradoc's court, aren't you? Well, perhaps we could give it a shot."

"Jester, wait-"

"Jane, relax. Just go to the room. I'll be up soon." Jane crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair, as Jester pulled his lute out of his pack.

"I go when you go." She said stubbornly. He smiled sweetly to her, and followed Mathilde towards the bar and the drunks.

"Boys," the Innkeeper's wife bellowed, to get their attention. They were a red-faced bunch, with the bulbous noses of heavy drinkers. "We have a bit of special entertainment tonight. A guest visit, from the King's very own court jester!" There were a few shouts and wild yells, and so Jester began to play an upbeat, drinking song on his lute. At nineteen, he had a fine tenor, and the skills on his lute of a master. His voice soared and whispered and leaped around the room. Soon the men were singing along, and as his song ended, they called for more. Jester took a swig of ale, and then jumped up onto one of the tables. His lute picked up a faster tune, and he began to improvise on the spot, dancing on the table as he played and sung.

_I went to town to visit the Fair_

_'Twas south of here, near Kippernium Square_

_And who should I meet but a jolly old bear?_

_When I went down south near Kippernium Square._

_I asked him kind how did he fare_

_He smiled at me, nodded his head in the air_

_Then bidding adieu to this great old bear_

_I continued my way through Kippernium Square_

_I saw many things and wonders rare_

_There were jugglers and bards and a maiden fair_

_Who rode elegant upon a dapple grey mare_

_My heart did stop near Kippernium Square._

_I asked her name, that maiden fair_

_She told me sweetly and with gentle care _

_A thousand questions I dared not share_

_For she stole my heart near Kippernium Square._

_I returned home once more, leaving the Fair_

_'Twas North again, from Kippernium Square_

_With stories and wonders a many to share_

_Yet I've left my heart south near Kippernium Square _

_Yes I've left my heart south near Kippernium Square. _

There was a round of applause, and the men shouted for more. Jester sang a few more ditties about whatever he could think of. He ignored the urge to sing the one he had written while watching Jane and Gunther spar, but instead, a mischievous grin on his face, he beckoned to Jane.

"Jane, I need you for this one." Jane looked taken aback.

"_Me_?" She asked incredulously. "But Jester, I am no singer!" Jester rolled his eyes.

"Jane, come on. I've heard you before. I _do_ live beneath your room. You aren't as bad as you pretend to be. Come. You'll know this one. You know, that one that Dragon wrote." Jane scowled.

"Fine," she snapped, though she looked pleased as well as embarrassed.

"_There once was a lady-in-waiting..._

_Let's call her Jane. That girl wasn't ordinary..._" Jester began. And then Jane, in a lovely voice that no one but Jester had ever really heard, sang the reply.

"_No way for me, a lady stuck in waiting_

_I'd rather battle fire-breathing dragons_

_I knew I could prove that a girl could be a knight,_

_Though my friends all laughed at me_

_But I wouldn't be discouraged, and trained in secret_

_Then a dragon pinched the royal prince and everyone was freakin'_

_So I went alone to the dragon's home_

_To slay the dragon"_

Jester joined back in, his lute and his voice blending beautifully with Jane's own contralto.

"_Hey now, hey now now!_

_Jane and the Dragon are best friends now!"_

"_Dragon's sweet, he let me save the young prince!_

_Then the King made me his knight apprentice!"_

_"Hey now, hey now now!"_

_"With Dragon's help, I'll be a knight someday!"_ Jester finished the song with a complex cadence, and the duet was met with uproarious applause. Jester bowed, and prompted Jane to do the same. She looked flushed and embarrassed, but there was a sparkle in her eyes. Jester grinned, feeling light and pleased.

"Thank you, Jane," he whispered to her.

Behind the bar, Mathilde clapped, her red curls bouncing around her plump face.

"Wonderful! I'd ask for an encore, but we don't want to tire your beautiful voices," Mathilde said, as the inn's tavern emptied itself of the drunk yet content men. They went out the door, their slurred voices singing bits of the songs and muddling lyrics together.

"_No way... me...fire breathing...girl...dragon...knight...hey!_"

Jane giggled, and unexpectedly leaned her head against Jester's shoulder. He looked down at her, blushing, but smiling. Jane had closed her eyes and he put an arm casually around her shoulders.

"Come on, Jane," he said. "We have a long day tomorrow." Mathilde gave them the room number and they went upstairs, taking a candle with them.

The hallway at the top of the staircase was dark and narrow. Jester held the candle aloft and after scanning the doors, spotted their room number. A brass number "3" hung crookedly in the middle of the door, and they opened it.

If the hallway was dark, the room seemed darker. It took them a moment for their eyes to adjust, and, seeing the outline of a small table, Jester put the candle down. Feeling his way along the wall, he found the shutters and opened them to let the moonlight enter. It lit parts of the room as if it were daytime.

The room was relatively comfortably sized. A large, double bed was up against one wall, and a pair of armchairs were by the hearth. A plush rug covered most of the stone floor, and in one corner there was a table with a washbasin and a little dirty mirror.

Simple tapestries covered the walls, to hide their plain stone appearances, and there was a door that led to the privy chamber. Everything was neat and tidy, and like the downstairs of the inn, the whole room felt friendly and inviting.

A sudden, embarrassing thought came to Jester's mind.

"Jane..." he started. She looked up at him, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Jane, I just realized something...there's only one bed." Jane shrugged.

"There's an armchair, too. And a rug." She added jokingly. But then, catching on, she said: "One of us could sleep in the chair." Jester bit his lip. His limbs called for the bed- it looked soft and inviting.

"You take the bed, Jane. I'll sleep in the armchair," he said, chivalry prompting him. Jane shook her head.

"I'm the knight, here. Knights must endure even the worst of conditions. _I'll_ sleep in the chair. You take the bed. It'll build my endurance." She moved towards the chair, but Jester stepped in her way.

"Jane, as you are the lady here, and I am the man, I _insist_ that you take the bed." She raised her eyebrows at him and crossed her arms.

"Make me," she said stubbornly. Jester sighed, and made as if towards the bed, but doubled back, catching her off guard. He wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up, holding tightly as she laughed and squirmed. He then dumped her unceremoniously onto the bed, and went to the window himself.

"Happy?" He asked, staring out into the night. Jane laughed.

"Very," she said, grinning impishly. "I am thoroughly impressed."

Silence fell upon them suddenly, like an invisible shroud.

"Am I really so timid, Jane?" Jester asked suddenly. He was still standing by the window, the light of the moon making his golden hair glint softly. He turned to her, his mist-coloured eyes wide and distant. Jane was sitting on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. She cocked her head, a smile playing lightly around her lips.

"You just threw a knight around, Jester. Literally. _That_, you fool, takes some _serious_ courage," she laughed, and got up from the bed, coming to stand close to him. "You aren't dwelling on what I said this morning, are you?" She asked. Jester was all too aware of just _how_ close she was to him.

"Well...maybe...I...yes...perhaps I... am." He flushed red, glad that his face was in shadows. He felt himself struggling inside. He wanted to tell her so much. To be able to pour out his heart for her. But he just...couldn't. Jane rested her head on his shoulder again, and he sighed, as she laughed.

"Jester, just forget about it, you fool." Her face was now very close to his, and he could feel her breath on his cheek.

"Jane...I..." He stopped, as she put a finger to his lips. Silently, her fingers brushed his blond hair away from his face, and he could faintly see her green eyes in the dim light. Without realizing what he was doing, Jester wrapped an arm around her waist, and brought his face very close to hers. Her hand found his free one, and squeezed it softly. He began to move forwards, but Jane moved back. She turned his face into the light, and seeing his confused expression, she caressed his cheek with her other hand.

"Not yet," she breathed, and slowly let go of his hand. Jester could only stare after her. He felt as if he was glowing. Not _yet_ she had said. Not "_never"_ or "_no"_. It was simply "not _yet._" A wonderful phrase that could give him hope for the future. Not yet. He smiled, and went to sit in the armchair, her words echoing in his ears. _Not yet...not yet..._


	6. Discomfort

**Author's Note: Hey. I. Feel. So. Guilty. I. Am. So. So. So. Sorry. Please forgive me. I'm so sorry for having left this so long.  
Many thanks to everone who "screamed" at me over my comment's page. That was _very much appreciated_. You have no idea. You're probably the reason that I went digging high and low for my flashdrive. Yes. Digging. I'll explain that in a minute.**

**So, I actually finished this chapter a few weeks ago. Yes. Weeks. I know. You're screaming "WHY!?" at me right now for having not posted. Okay. Well. First half of the story. I started writing this in July, and was attacked viciously by writer's block. Then I suffered from some loss of inspiration and had to chuck out my main story idea. Can't explain. It just didn't work or make sense. So I had to come up with a new chapter course, which I am still struggling with. Also, I was on vacation almost all of August (WITHOUT my laptop stupid planes!). So, I couldn't write more after having scrapped everything that was new.  
But, as soon as I got back (and after coming back from camp, as well), whenever I had the chance (and haven't had the kids in my neighbourhood begging for me to draw them), I have worked and re-worked this chapter, chucked the lamest parts out, brought them back, crumpled them up and (metaphorically) threw them out of the second storey window. Then I took a ten meter long fishing pole and dragged them back _again_ because my writer's block was so terrible. As well as warring against writer's block, I _have_ written more, battled with complete lameness and over criticality from myself, listened to one Skillet CD so much that I probably know all of the words perfectly by now, tried to write, ended up staring out of my window at nothing in particular, and then realized that you were all waiting for this and that I had forgotten to write more. Oh, and feeling like an idiot for forgetting to keep writing.  
Second half of the story. My flashdrive (remember, I work on a laptop with no internet and that's how I transfer it to an internet-connected computer) went missing and I had a _lot_ of trouble finding the darn thing. In fact, I only found it about twenty mintues ago. And as soon as I found it, I dropped reading _Breaking Dawn_ for the second time, and came to give you this chapter.  
I'm going to confess that I am not completely sure or happy with this chapter. So I want criticism. Because I _know_ that this chapter has some pretty big faults, but I'm not quite sure where to polish it up. I can't really decide whether I like it or not. So tell me what you think and where to fix up. Or if you agree with me in thinking that it's a little lame (which I'm starting to think), tell me. I am willing to re-write this chapter. In fact, I almost want to. But I need to know what you think, first.**

**Many thanks to every one who has been commenting. Whenever I have started staring out of my window, I have turned on my cell and gone and read all of the "Update Soon"s and stuff like that, which has prompted me to keep writing.**

**I'm going to try to keep writing, but I can't guarantee for now because school has started again. But, check especially around weekends and more. And in the worst case scenario, you _might_ have to wait until Christmas Mintermist shudders. I would hate to make you wait that long, though, but if for some odd reason I can't write for a while, by then I _will _have something up, even if it's just a paragraph.**

**Again. I appologize for having made you wait. I'm not going to make you wait longer. Go. Read. And review. And scream at me if I don't write. I _need_ that. It inspired me and made me write a bit.**

**PS The majority of this was written at approximately four am. So I'm sorry if anything doesn't make sense... :P**

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Discomfort

Discomfort was what woke Jester. Discomfort, and an aching neck. Groaning softly, he stretched his sore muscles and winced. Yesterday's riding had had a heavy toll on him, and he found aches in places he didn't know existed.

_Admit it, Jester_, he mentally chided himself, _you are secretly wishing that you had slept on a nice, comfortable mattress and forgot about being the gentleman_. He tentatively brought a hand to his face to rub his tired eyes, and a stab of stiff pain shot down his side. Jester grimaced. _Deffinately wish you had_.

The window was still open from the previous evening, and the soft sound of bird song was enough to make him momentarily forget his pains. He turned and tottered to the windowsill -wincing slightly- the early light bathing his face in warm, transparent gold. The crisp scent of morning was fresh and distinct in the cool breeze, and he was sure that he could almost taste it in the air. It was so sweet that he sighed.

"A new dawn, a new day," he murmured, fully appreciating the saying. Endless possibilities stretched before him today, if only he pushed forwards. An empty canvas waiting to be painted; he hoped to paint a masterpiece on it.

A flood of memory reminded him of the previous night, and he felt something warm in him. Jane's words replayed over and over in his mind. _Not yet_. He smiled hopefully to himself, but also felt a pang of something else. Something uncomfortable. Something that greatly resembled worry. Jester's hands clenched on the sill for support as a horrible thought struck him. What if she was just saying that to spare his feelings? What if there was no truth in it? Doubtful thoughts swirled through his mind, making his pulse pick up speed, and his breathing to grow somewhat uneven with stress.

Maybe he had been wrong about Jane being oblivious to his feelings? Could she really have known all those years? Jester shuddered at the thought. It made something tighten in his stomach uncomfortably.

Jester had almost always been there with her, as well as there _for_ her. He had become so attuned to her moods that he knew immediately when something was wrong, or when she was secretly pleased, or if she was embarassed, or trying to hide something. He had become so used to her that he thought that he almost knew her very thoughts just by looking into her eyes.

But...what if she had grown the same way?

What if she could read _him_ like an open book? If she had known for years how he felt, how his pulse quickened when she walked into the room, how he had struggled to keep her happy and had even been prepared to sacrifice his own happiness for her?

Could she have known? Did she feel sorry for the poor, love-struck fool, and simply say something that sparked hope in him, just to spare his silly heart?

Jester closed his eyes tightly, trying to block out his thoughts. No. He couldn't think like that. Jane wouldn't do that to him, he was sure. They had been friends for too long, and he knew by now that she wouldn't be afraid to speak her mind to him, even if his heart would be slightly scraped and bruised in the doing.

"Uungh." A soft moan made Jester's eyes snap open again, and his head whipped around. He was rewarded by a sharp, jabbing pain in his neck.

"Ouch! Stupid chair..." He cursed mildly under his breath, massaging his neck with one hand, as his eyes came to rest upon the sleeping form of Jane.

"Uungh..." She was obviously dreaming. Or having a nightmare. Either way, Jester had an uncomfortable gut feeling.

"Jane?" Jester asked quietly. Jane turned over, murmuring unintelligibly in her sleep. She began to breathe in sharp, ragged breaths.

"Jane?" Jester asked again, a bit louder and more alarmed. He took a hesitant step towards the bed.

"No...no..." Jane was speaking in gasps, clearly agonized over something only her unconcious mind could see. "Not...no..._no_!"

"Shh, Jane, shh. Wake up!" Jester hissed.

"No...please...not...auuuuuggh!" Jane screamed softly, and began sobbing into her pillow.

"Jane, what is it?" Jester tried to sound soothing, in hopes of reaching her in her dream.

"Dragon..." Jane whimpered, "No..._no_...Pepper...Rake...Smithy...Princess..._no_!"

"Jane, _please_, wake up!" Jester touched her shoudler lightly. Jane twitched away from him in her sleep.

"Not...no...please, no...Gunther..._run_! No! ..." She continued to cry into her pillow. Jester sat tentaticely on the edge of the bed.

"Jester..."

He froze.

She had said his name so clearly, her voice ringing almost in relief. It sounded almost as if she was awake. "No...wait...no! _No_!" Jane screamed again, her face wet with tears. "_Jester!! ...No...auuuugh!_" Jane sat bolt upright, her eyes flying open. Her eyes met Jester's, taking in his worried expression, her own eyes wide and fearful, and her face pale. It looked like she was going to scream again. Jester clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Shhh, Jane, shhh! It was just a nightmare. You're safe...shh." Jane leaned into his chest, which caused him to turn scarlet, as she hid her face against his shoulder. He hesitantly wrapped an arm around her. She was sobbing convulsively, her body trembling in his arms. Jester hugged her tighter to himself, ignoring the burning pain shooting through his muscles.

"You're safe," he repeated, his fingers absently caressing her hair. Jane took a deep, shuddering breath, and seemed to calm slightly.

"I'm sorry," she muttered finally, her face still pressed against him.

"Don't be. It wasn't your fault. You were just... dreaming." Jester shrugged, trying to force a smile, but the image of Jane's face twisted in horror when she woke was enough to rattle him. Now Jane closed her eyes and sighed, resting her forehead against his shoulder.

"I feel like such a fool," she murmured.

"I'm sorry, but the position of _Fool_ is taken. Though perhaps you _could_ come in a close second, _if_ you work on it." Jester winked, trying to lighten the mood. Jane looked up at him, one eyebrow raised.

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny, Jester. But no. I was being serious. That was a little..._embarassing_..." Jane's lips curled at the last word, as if tasting something bitter. Jester shrugged again.

"Why?" He asked innocently. Jane gave him an '_Oh-you-think-you're-so-funny'_ look.

"You're joking," she said.

"No, I'm not. Please, illuminate me." Jane rolled her eyes at him, exasperated.

"Think of it, you fool. The first girl knight, seventeen years old, and supposedly not afraid of anything -a girl who rides a _dragon_, no less- waking up screaming about a silly dream. And with an _audience_, too! Ugh!" Jane groaned softly. Jester pretended to think about it seriously for a minute.

"Hmm...I guess I see your point...not exactly dignifying."

"_Thanks_," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, you said it first..." He grinned at her, "But don't worry, I won't tell." She glared at him.

"You'd _better_ not."

"Friend's honor," Jester said with mock solemnity. Jane sighed and leaned back against his shoulder.

"I'm still sorry you saw that," she said, biting her lip.

"Care to tell me what _you_ saw?" Jester looked at her with concern in his eyes. Jane blushed and shook her head, eyes lowered.

"It was just something stupid," she said, all too quickly. Jester was silent a moment, his eyes distant.

"You said my name," he said at last. His voice held the ghost of a smile, but his face was blank of any emotion. Perfectly composed.

Jane looked up sharply, and then back at her hands.

"W-what?" There was a catch in her voice.

"You said my name," Jester repeated, "When you were asleep." He tried to catch her eye, but she continued to stare resolutely downwards.

"What else did I say?" Jane asked quietly. Jester shrugged.

"Well, between the screaming, and the '_No'_s, you said other people's names. Dragon, Pepper, Rake, Smithy, the Princess, Gunther," he ticked them off on his hand, "And then me." Jester took her chin in one gentle hand, and tilted her face up to look at him. He held her face firmly, and she reluctantly met his even gaze. "I don't think," he said softly, "that it was just something stupid. I think that it was something that hurt you...you should have heard your voice and seen your face when you woke up,"

"It was nothing..."

"_Jane_," he said her name softly, eyebrows raised. She swore mildly.

"It's... _hard_ to explain..."

"I'm listening." Jane glared at him.

"It was just...okay, well, fine," she snapped, and then sighed, "I guess it was just that I was..._losing_...the people I... loved. I don't know. It was dark and there was a...a...a _blackness_ that swallowed everyone up, that cut them down, that tore them away from me. And I felt... _powerless_, I guess. I couldn't do a thing. It was as if no one...no one could _see_ me, or _hear_ me, or anything. I screamed for them to run, but they would keep going towards danger.

"Then, after Pepper, and Dragon, after Rake, and Smithy, and the Princess, and everyone else were gone, Gunther was there and I knew that he would be next and I screamed at him to run. But he didn't. He couldn't hear me either.

"And then you were there, and I was still screaming at Gunther to run. But you were different. You _could_ hear me. You wanted to help. As Gunther began to vanish, you said that you would save him, and you began to leave. I begged you to stay with me, and not risk yourself, but you were so eager to...to...I don't know _what_. Prove yourself? Do something? Ugh. I don't know! But, either way, you ignored me to save him, and then you left me, too, and I watched you vanish before my eyes alongside with Gunther. I couldn't move to stop you. And then I knew that you had... died," Jane's voice sounded strained, but she pushed on. "I couldn't _stand_ it, that everyone I loved was gone. Everything was going dark, and I knew that the blackness was swallowing _me_, too. It was horrible." Jane shut her eyes, as if trying to block out the images her mind had haunted her with the night before. Jester stared at her, silent, eyes wide.

"Jane," he said, his voice no more than a whisper. "Jane?"

"Yes?" she whispered back hoarsely, eyes still shut.

"Jane, look at me," he took her face in his hands again, fighting back against the sweet burning sensation he felt tingling through his fingertips. She reluctantly opened her eyes. "Jane, I want you to know that, as long as you want me around, I _will not leave_. Even if the King were to dismiss me, I would be around." His thumb traced her lower lip, and before he even knew what he was doing, he had leaned down and swiftly brushed his mouth against hers.

In that brief moment, everything felt so _right_ to Jester. The kiss was so soft, so sweet. The feeling of his lips moving with hers, clinging, was enough to send shivers through him. She was everything he wanted, everything he needed, and he knew that he was prepared to do anything to keep her happy. Because in that moment, he felt more whole than he ever had in his life. He felt as if he had found the other half to his person, the other half to his very _soul_, and knew that they were meant to be. He knew, more than before, that he _loved_ her. Loved her more than he loved his own life.

"_Please_, Jester," Jane murmured, through half-closed lids.

She pulled away, all too soon, blushing. Jester felt frozen. He ran a hand through his hair in disbelief, finally registering what he had just done. Had he just _kissed_ her? _Dammit, Jester_, he metally screamed at himself. That kiss would cost him, he was sure. It would compromise their friendship. All those years. And, for all that the kiss had felt right, for all that it had felt _wonderful_...

Jester stood up abruptly.

"Jane...I...I'm sorry...I shouldn't have...sorry..." He turned his back to her and rested his head against the window's edge, staring blindy into the morning. The weak sun shone at the edge of the horizen, and the sky was lit with the pale pinks and oranges of dawn.

Why had he done it? Why did he have to stop thinking, and risk their friendship? How _could_ he have done that? His friendship with Jane was the most treasured thing in his life. He _couldn't_ live without it. Without her. He swore at himself mentally.

"Jester?" A light touch on his elbow made him flinch. He didn't know how long he had been standing there. "Jester, can I... talk to you?" Jane asked, her voice carefully composed.

Jester shrugged and nodded in stoic nonchalance, steeling himself.

"I'm _really_ sorry, Jane," he said with a sigh. Jane grimaced.

"So am I," she said. Jester bowed his head, his fingers gripping the sill, his knuckles turned white.

"I-I...I understand," he said shakily. "I know, I was stupid, and selfish, and I promise that I won't do it again, and I'm sorry, and-"

He felt a hand on his wrist, and allowed himself to be turned around.

"Jester, please, just let me speak," she stared into his face, her eyes sad, and Jester felt something twisting painfully in him as he met her green gaze. It could never be the same, now, he knew. And his relationship with Jane could never, _ever_ be more, either. "Yes, I'm sorry, too," Jane continued, "But not for the... _same_ reasons as you. I'm sorry, because...well, okay, can I explain to you why we _can't_ be? Not yet, at least?"

Jester nodded grimly.

"You can try." Jane bit her lip.

"Jester, you're probably my best human friend. I know I've been a burden at times, and I know that I've hurt you... so much, in fact, that I can't possibly deserve your friendship anymore. But still, you have always been there for me, and you have always done whatever you could to help me. You have been my truest friend.

"I guess that I always knew that you..._cared_ about me. No person can give so much of themselves as you did, so freely, without caring a bit. I admit that I was sort of hoping that you might get over me, at least for a while." Jane shut her eyes and took a deep breath.

"But you didn't. And I think that it's selfish and horrible of me, but a part of me is..._glad_...of that. I'm glad that you still care, I'm glad that we're here, and I'm hating myself for having to say all of this and I wish I could explain this better and..." Jane took another breath.

"Jane, I-"

"Just let me finish," Jane said. "I have been struggling...for so long...to, well, _not_ _feel_ anything, I guess. I haven't wanted to... to get involved. With anyone. Getting my shield and being knighted is my main goal. I can't have any distractions until then." Jane put a hand to her forehead. "I'm not making much sense, am I?" She asked weakly.

"I get it. You don't feel the same. And that's okay. You don't have to tiptoe around _my_ feelings to let me off lightly-"

"No, that's just _it_! You don't get it! Jester, don't you realize how...how _wonderful_ that kiss was? How amazing? How much _I_ _wanted_ it, even though I knew I couldn't and shouldn't _have_ it?! No matter what I've been telling myself, no matter how _hard _I've been trying to ignore it, I think that I'm falling in _love_ with you." Jane shook her head incredulously, her red hair bouncing.

Jester stared at her, speechless.

"So now you know," Jane sighed, "and I have to ask you something. Are you prepared to... wait for me, after everything I've done to you? Are you willing to wait until I have my shield and I'm-"

"Jane," Jester murmured, his face once more close to hers, "You sweet, beautiful, silly creature." He cupped one of her cheeks in his hand, his fingers stroking her face. Jane let out a little sigh of contentment. "I don't know if I can agree to that, you know," He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her tighter to him. His lips found her forehead, and he kissed it lightly. "Mmm...no, I don't think I _want_ agree to that. Not when I have you _here_, right now." He grinned at her crookedly.

"I don't know if _I _want you to agree to that, either," Jane breathed, snuggling herself closer to his chest, her arms wrapping around his neck.

"Can I try this again?" Jester asked softly, his finger once more tracing her lips. Jane blushed, but willingly turned her face upwards.

"I think I was right before," she teased, "you _are_ a terrible distraction. I don't know how long I'll be able to last in training if it gets to be any better...or worse, than this..."

"Are you _sure_ I'd be a distraction," Jester asked, his face solemn, "what if we just called me extra comfort?"

Jane grinned.

"Mmm, I like the sound of that," she laughed, "Comfort for when I leave the training yard, sopping wet, and muddy, bruised by Gunther's cutting remarks."

"Exactly,"

"And besides that," Jane continued, "I'm not really in much of a mood for fighting with myself about distractions today."

"That's good," Jester murmured. "Because I'm not much inclined to listen to those arguments anymore after this." He grinned at her as he caressed her cheek. Jane smiled radiently.

"Are you going to kiss me, or not, you fool?"

Jester didn't answer her at first. Instead, he smiled at her, his eyes taking her in. Then he leant down, and tenderly whispered: "I love you," in her ear, before he covered her mouth with his in a gentle kiss.

* * *

**Author's End Note: So...please go tell me what you think. I think I might've gone overboard in the fluff. I don't remember. I haven't actually read it in a while. So go. Review. And keep screaming at me through my comment's page! Thanks!**


	7. Lessons

**Author's Note: Hey, guys! I know, I've been gone a while. I don't know if anyone read my post/message to you on the comments page of _Ballad _(if I ever disappear for a long time, and you're really pissed with me, check to see if I've left a message for you there!)... but if you didn't read it, it was just to assure you that I have NOT given up on this fic. I know, I've been gone, but I've been spending this time working on the seventh chapter and eighth chapters (no, it isn't complete yet. Stay tuned!), future songs that will appear throughout the fic (it is very hard to get them right and is very time consuming), and attempting to thicken and re-map the plot. **

**Well, thanks for the screaming. I love my screamers. Come back soon. AND READ AND REVIEW!!! YOU CAN SCREAM AT MY SLOWNESS, IF YOU WANT! Cheers!**

**-Mintermist**

* * *

**Lessons**

The clatter of hooves on cobbles rang merrily through the streets of Muskhorn, a brisk _clip-clop clip-clop_, as Jane and Jester rode away from the town. The horses were in high spirits, their eyes bright and curious as they tossed their heads, whickering playfully to one another. Atop of his bay mare, Jester couldn't help but feel that this was the perfect begining to the journey.

Their one setback had simply been that it had taken nearly half of the day to get started.

Between swift, clinging kisses, and after having thanked Torval and Mathilde Fuller earlier that morning, they had checked and repacked their packs and set them on the backs of their saddles. They had looked at the horses' tack, as well, to ensure that everything was going to be in top condition for the next two fortnights.

"You can never be too careful," Jane had said, as she saddled her chestnut gelding. As her hands ran deftly over Cleaver's girth, she had grimaced, "because you never know when you'll get a nasty surprise. Cut it out, you!" She had said to the horse, as she poked Cleaver sharply in the side. He exhaled with what sounded like a disappointed sigh. Jane rolled her eyes.

"This little trickster likes to play the odd joke once in a while," she had explained to Jester, "He sucks in air, expanding himself, so that when I tighten his girth, it's really too big. Once I mount him, he exhales, the saddle gets loose and flip, sending the me flying." Jane had made a face at that, as if remembering an unpleasant fall, and the gelding had made an odd snickering noise. She tightened his girth swiftly.

"I see," Jester had murmured, eyeing the gelding with mock-severity, "why, then, he's a jester, too. But of base humour, rather than wit and sophistication."

Jane had rolled her eyes.

"Come on, you fool," she'd said.

"Who...me? Or the horse?"

"You, jingle boy,"

"Oh, right," Jester had taken a step forwards, and then stopped, his face lit up with exaggerated emotion. He had ran a hand through his blonde hair, looking at Jane with one eyebrow raised. "Or, wait... wrong, actually."

Jane looked at him, eyebrows raised in puzzlement.

"Wrong about what?"

Jester had pointed to his head.

"No hat, remember! So, no, I'm technically _not_ the jingle boy." Jane put a hand to her forehead.

"You're impossible!"

"Part of the job description!" Jester had flashed her an innocent smile, and Jane grinned in spite of herself, leaning over to kiss him lightly on the cheek.

Now, they wound their way through the streets of the small, whitewashed town. Jester's eyes drank in every detail- every cobblestone, the sound of laughing children, the scent of baking bread from the Baker's house, the feel of the early afternoon sun on his face. And above all, the figure of Jane riding beside him. He wanted to ingrain it all into his memory, and never forget them- it was a feeling of perfection and wholeness.

"What are you thinking?" Jane asked, breaking Jester's train of thought.

"Hmm? Oh...nothing, really." Jane cocked her head at him from atop Cleaver, and then shrugged.

"Oh. Well...you just looked..._thoughtful_, I guess." She smiled warmly at him, and he felt his heart do a cartwheel. _You'd think that now that she and I...well_..._ that I wouldn't hang so much upon her every glance_, he thought to himself.

"Did I?" He asked, "I guess I was just thinking about how...well, wonderful doesn't even cover how this day feels so far. I guess the word I would use would be..._perfect..._ or _glorious_." He looked at her, his eyes misted over. Jane blushed under his gaze.

"Is that so?" She murmured, fighting to compose herself. "_Glorious_?"

"Yes," he replied.

"And what is it _exactly_ that makes it 'glorious'?" Jester looked thoughtful a moment.

"Well, I guess it _could_ be this lovely weather, with those clouds coming in from out east, there," he said, his voice sarcastic as he pointed to the dark, looming shapes on the eastern horizon. Jane rolled her eyes, and Jester grinned boyishly at her, before he sobered. "But

_really_, I think that it's...well...umm.... _you_, Jane," he murmured, his voice soft and tender. Jane blushed, looking embarrassed.

"Come on," she said, her voice betraying her pleasure, "we should get moving before the weather turns your 'glorious' mood into a sopping wet one."

Jester winked.

"Of course," he inclined his head to her, as he nudged Valiant into a swift trot.

They were out of the gate faster than Jester had expected, with not so much as a dark look from the gatekeeper. One of the town's few soldiers watched them with a chuckle, and sarcastically called out to watch for bandits as they sped by.

The cobbled street leading to the small town swiftly turned into the common dirt main road, and they pushed the horses into a canter. The trees whipped past them, blurring the various shades of green and grey, as the wind whistled melodiously in their ears. The musical bubbling of a creek could be heard somewhere to Jester's right.

They had ridden about fifteen minutes when they finally slowed down once more.

"Jester?" Jane asked, "Which direction do we need to go, exactly?"f

Jester shrugged nonchalantly, and swept his arm broadly in front of him.

"The general eastern border, milady. We know which was to go by those little dark things rolling in, and we just keep the mountains on our left."

"_Wonder_ful," Jane said, her voice dripping in sarcasm, "So we're basically going to get caught up in the storm?" Jester thought a moment.

"It... depends. Eventually, I'd hazard a guess at _yes_, unless we are unnaturally lucky. That storm seems at least a day or two away, depending on how quickly the wind is blowing it. It could be less, though."

"So we have to be quick," Jane said grimly.

"_If_ you want to stay dry, then, yes."

"Why does the weather have to be so changeable?" Jane grumbled, "I mean, yesterday and this morning were the first real _sunny_ days of the season, and now..."

"Now we get another torrential bucket-load on the agenda?"

"Exactly."

"Hmm...not quite an even trade, but then again, welcome to autumn."

"I would prefer to go back to the summer, thanks."

"Well, we don't always seem to get what we want, now do we?" Jester grinned crookedly.

"You're one to talk," Jane said pointedly, shaking her head. "Come on. We have a lot of ground to cover today. We need to _really_ get out there."

"Then let's start." Jester and Valiant shot forwards, a bolt from a crossbow, towards the billowing black sail of clouds on the horizon.

* * *

"We're going to need to find shelter, soon," Jane called. Jester nodded, feeling too exhausted to speak. They had been riding for hours. The sun had not yet set, but they would have to set up their camp for the night while there was still light.

"Any suggestions?" He asked finally, eyes scanning the foothills ahead, and the rocky cliffside on their left, to the north.

"Well, preferably some sort of natural shelter..." Jane replied.

"Such as...?"

"You know. Burrow, cave, overhang... just something that will shield us from the worst of the elements if the wind picks up and the clouds come and decide to spill on us. If there's nothing, we might have to build something rudimentary."

"You mean _you'd _have to build something, considering my lack of survival skills,"

"That lack of knowledge is something I plan on remedying," Jane retorted.

"Oh, what fun."

Jester rolled his eyes. "What are those?" He asked, pointing to a few dark openings at the foot of the cliff face. Jane squinted, and then grinned.

"_Caves_!" She exclaimed. "At least, I think so. Come on. We'll take a closer look. If we're going to borrow one for the night, then we had better make sure that it is unoccupied."

"Right," Jester bobbed his head in agreement, setting his mare at a brisker pace.

They advanced in companionable silence, the horses set at a matching gait.

Jester couldn't help but admire the beauty of the forest. Squirrels could be seen leaping between the branches overhead, and swallows flitted from tree to tree. Sunlight shone through the canopy above, creating swirling mosaics of light overtop of the pine needles, which covered the dirt ground. Tiny jewel-like insects swarmed in clouds.

The prints of small mammals dotted the forest floor, their tracks weaving this way and that, and the ferns rustled as if perhaps some of those small creatures were darting out of sight. The chattering noises of woodland animals ceased as the horses moved by, but immediately recommenced once they had passed on, and they themselves rode in an invisible bubble of near silence.

"There," Jane's voice seemed to echo loudly and sharply in the vastness of the forest, as she pointed forwards. Jester squinted through the foliage, at last catching sight of the rocky cave on the other side of a sparse grouping of coniferous trees.

The cave was relatively shallow- nothing too deep that looked as if it could contain unknown creatures- with a slight overhang near the entrance. Bracken and brambles were scattered around its mouth. They nudged the horses towards it, and dismounted warily, Jane inspecting the ground.

"No, I don't think that this is taken," she said after a few minutes, "there are no signs- no pelts, no bones, no tracks... nothing to indicate a bear, or a wolf, or any other carnivore's presence. Everything looks relatively unused."

"Well, just our luck!" Jester grinned, slipping an arm around Jane's waist. He watched her blush, a look of triumph gleaming in his grey-blue eyes.

"_Please_, not now, Jester," Jane said, squirming out of his grasp and landing a light kiss on his cheek as she danced away. He stuck out his lower lip in a puppy-dog-eyed pout, his eyes following her movements. Jane rolled her eyes. "Come on, fool, the camp won't set itself up! Here," she picked a short-sword from a pack and tossed it to him, "go cut us some of those brambles. We'll use them as firewood." Jester took the blade and mumbled something that sounded like a disgruntled "_Fine_!" before he went back to the mouth of the cave and began hacking away at the thorn bushes.

The short-sword was relatively light for metal, and in the hands of an expert would have swung almost too easily, though Jester was a little uncoordinated with it, his hands clenching the hilt in a fashion that made it awkward to make accurate cuts.

The hilt was wrapped in a stretch of black leather, with two entwined vines made of silver at the pommel, and the blade itself was of tempered steel. Jester couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship, and felt guilty for using such a fine thing for the humble task of chopping wood.

After he had a reasonable pile, he dragged the thorny branches into the back of the cave. Jane had already prepared the base for their fire: a circle of stones to prevent it from spreading. Jester tossed a few brambles into the circle and Jane withdrew her flint.

In minutes, there was a small fire crackling comfortingly.

"There you have it, Jane. My work is done. So _now_..." he leaned forward to kiss her, his hands finding hers, but she pulled away with a fresh blush. Jester looked at her longingly, his eyes betraying his embarrassment. "Please, Jane? _Please_?"

"_Maybe..._ later. _If_ you behave during your lessons, that is."

"My _what_?!"

"Weren't you listening? I mentioned it to you earlier, you fool!" Jane laughed, "You know. Your _lessons_. Survival skills and sword craft, combat, tactics, tracking, hunting..."

"Wait...what...when... _why_?" Jester spluttered. Jane sighed, as if explaining something obvious to a child for the tenth time.

"Because, jingle boy, if you plan on staying alive long enough to go _back_ to Kippernium, you are going to _need_ these."

"...Oh..." Jester glanced down at the short sword he had deposited on the ground. Jane grinned.

"Jester, meet your short sword."

"Hello, Mr. Shortsword. Allow me to introduce myself! I am Jester, the court...erm..., well, jester. If you hadn't already guessed. Pleased to make your acquaintance." He mimed shaking hands with an invisible person.

"Please, Jester. This is serious."

"Very well, very well. As my lady commands," Jester joked. Jane rolled her eyes, and picked up the short sword.

"Now, look closely. You hold it like this," Jane demonstrated, her fingers curling around the hilt, her thumb coming to rest close under the top end of the tang. "And you stand like this." She stood up and posed, her feet staggered and bent slightly at the knees, sword arm raised defensively in front of her. "Just try holding it for now. I'm going to try to knock it out of your hands, to let you get a feel for what a battle feels like. I want you to try your best to keep hold of it. Show some resistance! I'll teach you to spar tomorrow. With sticks, of course."

Jester took the blade, and feeling foolish, stood the same way Jane had. Jane walked around him, moving his arm ever so slightly and adjusting his grip. Finally she stepped back.

"How does that feel?"

"I feel foolish."

"You should. It's your job to feel like that."

"Oh, _hilarious_, Jane," Jester rolled his eyes, and Jane stuck her tongue out at him.

"Alright, well you have that covered. Now, for testing your grip. And like I said, if you master this, I will give you a brief, _brief_ run-over of how to spar later."

"Brilliant, Jane. I'm ecstatic." The nineteen-year-old said, sarcasm edging his tone. Jane beamed, and withdrew her own sword.

"Ready, Jester?"

"Would I ever be, love?" Jane laughed and blew him a kiss, and before he had even realized it, had lunged, her sword connecting with his own blade in a single arc. The impact was shattering. The clang of metal on metal rang out loudly, echoing in the cave like the voice of a shrill specter. Jester had to gasp aloud, as an electric shock of pain rolled up his arm and shoulder in waves from the force of the blow. He staggered backwards slightly, and the weapon fell from his grip.

Jane took a step back, looking abashed.

"Oops! Was...was that too much?"

"Umm...yes..." Jester gasped, rubbing his right biceps and wincing, "I think it was perhaps a _bit_ too much." Jane blushed and bit her lip.

"Sorry. Here...let me see."

"No, no, Jane, it's nothing. Again, if you please?" Jane raised her eyebrows, but Jester had already raised his sword arm back into its position.

"Now?" Jane asked.

"Yes." Jester said, rolling his right shoulder back once more and giving his arm a shake.

"Here goes," Jane said, striking once more.

Again, the echo of the clashing metal reverberated on the walls, and Jester's arm faltered slightly, but he kept hold of his weapon this time. And, again, he restationed himself into the guard position and Jane struck over and over again, until he finally managed to hold steady.

Rubbing his right arm, he tossed the blade down.

"E-enough," he panted. Jane nodded, wiping a hand over her brow.

"I have to say," she grinned, "that was impressive, for a complete beginner. There are obviously some..._faults_, I guess, but who doesn't have them at some point? I admit, I could have ended up disarming you with a flick of my wrist with the position you were holding, so we need to work on that. But, otherwise I am quite pleased!"

She sheathed the blades and placed them at an accessible point, as Jester removed his leather cuirass and changed into a light cotton tunic.

"Now, supper!" She declared, handing him his rations- barley bread, dried meat strips and a skein of water. During their practice, night had settled around them like a silent predator stalking its prey. Jester found he was famished, but looked at her with one eyebrow raised.

"First, what happened to the '_if you behave during your lessons_' promise?"

Jane stroked his cheek.

"Don't worry," she whispered, a blush colouring her face. "I haven't forgotten. But, your lessons aren't done yet."

"Oh, bliss," Jester muttered. Jane laughed.

"Be patient,"

"I don't think I can!" Jane winked at him, as he mock-glared at her.

They ate in silence, their eyes dancing a colourful minuet of gazing at each other and then looking away shyly whenever their gazes met. At last, Jester moved his gaze to the flames licking the bracken.

The fire had grown considerably, now a crackling blaze that exuded a comfortable heat. Jester tossed another brambly branch in, watching it crackle and spark, the wood turning black and charred by the raging element. The dancing flames, Jester realized, a smiling lighting upon his face, were the exact same colour as _her_ hair. Red. It was also just as wild, as well as beautiful.

As it was, when it came to his relationship with Jane, Jester realized that he was playing with wild fire. One word from her could char him as black as one of the burnt bramble branches. But, yet, she could also bring him warmth and comfort if he did not abuse the flame.

He looked over at her, his eyes sweeping her face, and she looked up. Her face seemed to glow in the firelight, her green eyes illuminated and seeming to shoot emeralds spark of thought. Jester wished he could read some of those thoughts.

He cleared his throat.

"So...you said that you had some more arm-smashing, shoulder-jarring, pain-inducing lessons to inflict upon me? Am I simply the practice dummy now?" He asked lightly.

"Well," Jane grinned back wryly, "you _did_ once offer to be my practice dummy, years ago..."

"So you _are_ using me!" Jester pretended indignation, an exaggerated look of shock passing over his face. Jane waved a hand in the air.

"Details, details," she laughed mockingly. "But, no, back to the point. The answer is yes, I do have a few more things I want to teach you."

Jester frowned and stuck out his tongue.

"This night seems to get better and better, huh, Jane? Bramble hacking and arm-smashing and now more grimy lessons!" Jane rolled her eyes.

"Don't worry," she said, "this is more...theoretical."

"Subject being?"

"Tactics and such." She winked. Jester sighed, and then leaned back against a rock jutting out from a small pile of rubble.

"I'm all ears, then."

Jane immediately began to explain, in depth, the means of thrusting and parrying, dodging, feinting, blocking, countering attacks and such. She explained how to take on one and multiple opponents at once, how to avoid being manipulated into tight spots, and how to guard your own back.

"If you have to deal with a large number of enemies," she said, "use whatever you can to your advantage- deception, feinting, fighting dirty and such. Also, yell. It can confuse an enemy. Keep your back somewhere where they absolutely will _not_ be able to surprise you." She continued giving pointers, emphasizing her explanations by sketching it them out into the dirt.

Jester watcher her long, slender fingers trace battlefields and ranks and plans, utterly mesmerized.

At last, Jane gave a sigh.

"Did you get it all?" Jester nodded once in response, and then took one of Jane's hands in his, playing idly with her fingers, interlacing his own fingers with hers.

"Yes, I think I did," he murmured, and then leant forwards to plant a kiss on her forehead. Jane giggled.

"I'll take that as a 'no'?" she guessed, her voice coy.

"Mmm...no, it's just that I'm a little..._distracted_ right now. Can't think straight." He grinned impishly at her, still toying with her hand in his lap, tracing patterns into her skin with his fingertip. Suddenly, he leaned forwards again and gently pulled her onto his lap, tilting her face upwards to his. "So..._now_?" He asked, his voice a tender whisper as he cupped her cheek in one hand.

Jane nodded.

"Yes, alright... _now_ you have permission," she said, a blush creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks. Before Jester could move a muscle, though, Jane gently took his face between her hands, and pulled it down to hers.

An electric current seemed to pass between them as their lips met, and Jester gave himself to the kiss. His arms snaked themselves tightly around her, pulling her into his chest. Jane also, threw herself into the embrace. She clung to him desperately, her body held as closely as possible to his.

"I love you." Jester's voice was ragged as he whispered the words between kisses. He pulled back, and in one fluid motion tucked her head under his chin, rocking her gently.

"Mmhmm?" Jane murmured, kissing his neck. She raised a hand from around his neck and tilted his face to hers once more. Jester took her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"Yes, forever and always," he said.

* * *

In the foliage, garbed in a black tunic and hose, crouched a man. His build was slight and slender, but at the same time lithe and muscular. The hood of a dark green woolen burnoose covered the top half of his face, and the lower, visible portion was dirty and unshaven. Long, matted brown hair hung greasily from beneath the hood, splayed like some dead creeping plant. His mouth was stretched into what was supposed to be a smile, the yellowed teeth and the twist to it turning it into a taunting grimace.

He carried an assortment of mismatched weapons, and a set of aged skeleton keys hung from the black leather belt around his waist. Soft leather boots clad his feet, making him silent in his motions.

Silent, which was what he had been for the past two hours.

Because, for the past two hours, he had watched the two travelers warily and unobserved, sizing up their attributes and determining their weaknesses in case of a fight or needed quick getaway.

After his observations, the blond boy -the squire, by the looks of it- he decided, seemed an amateur with weapons, and was thus harmless. He was confident that he could overpower the redheaded girl if need be.

He watched as the girl dropped off to sleep in the boy's arms, and the boy held her protectively, loving and yet gentlemanly. The man felt his eyebrows raise incredulously at the fact that the blond was not taking advantage of the girl's unconsciousness, as he himself would have had he been the one sitting there.

Sitting motionless, barely breathing, he finally saw the boy's eyelids shut. Smiling triumphantly once more to himself, he checked his weapons and began to silently make his was towards the mouth of the cave. He was sure of victory, as he withdrew a thin silver dagger, which reflected the moonlight like a silver drop of blood...


	8. Sharp

**Author's Note: Phew. Finally back. Sorry I hadn't updated. I didn't forget. I've just been absent from my laptop for a _looooooooooooooooooooong_ time. It's very depressing for me. But, sad feelings aside, I have brought you the next chapter of Jester's wonderfully fluffy and cheesy saga. Heh. Yeah. So, since you might be impatient because of the last cliffie (if you don't remember what happened, go back a cheesy-chapter and read the last paragraph. Memory refreshment!),**** I will shut up and let you read. For real. Go. Now. And then review. Or you'll never get any more of the story! Ready? Set? GO!**

(By the way, there is some mild implied swearage, friends. Please don't use it in real life. It's just to enhance...stuff.)

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****Sharp**

The sound of a shrieking horse made Jester start awake, arms still around Jane. He felt her jolt awake as well, rolling out of his lap and into a defensive crouch by pure reflex.

Jester's eyes, heavy from exhaustion, took a few seconds to focus properly, but as soon as they did, they locked in on the figure trying to coax the horses into calming down.

"Jane!" He called hoarsely, springing lithely to his feet, exhaustion forgotten.

"I see him!" she replied, as Jester took a deep breath and began sprinting towards the figure.

Calmly, and almost too serenely, the hooded man turned towards him, observing him almost casually and indifferently.

Jester was a meter away, ready to knock the man to the ground, when the intruder finally moved, bringing his gloved arm upwards in a fluid motion. Jester saw it before Jane had even uttured a scream of warning- a swift flash of a silver blade. It was too late for him to stop without colliding into the blade, and so he dove right of the man, who followed his movements. He felt the cold blade slash through the thin cotton tunic effortlessly, like a wave breaking on a rock, and caress his skin. A crimson flower bloomed from his arm onto the white cotton, dark red petals of blood splattering the ground. Jester couldn't help but gasp in shock and pain.

The man regarded him a moment, a gloating sneer on the lower half of his unshaven face, as Jester stumbled and tripped from the surpirse, clutching his arm.

"As I much as I expected," the man said, his voice gravelly and mocking.

Distracted as he was, he almost didn't noticed Jane run at him with a shortsword in each hand, but turned to parry her first blow with the long dagger at the last minute and dodging the next strike.

Jester watched in awe as Jane unleashed a torrent of dual-weaponed attacks on the man, who was lightning quick, a dark flash of a form who moved almost too quick for the eye to follow.

They danced in circles, lunging and parrying and thrusting, dodging and spinning, the clash of metal against metal sonorous and violent, amplified by the stone walls of the cave. Jester noted that the frenzied dance vaguely resembled that of which Jane had practiced with Gunther four days earlier. It felt like a lifetime had passed since he had sat sulking at his window, watching the two squires exchange blows and feeling envious.

But this new dance had a new, wild edge to it, that differentiated it from the one in the muddy practice court. There was a cold iron edge that came with the aggressive slashes, the grunts of exertion and the wary movements. It was rougher, coarser, more volatile and absolutely furious.

The man feinted a strike a Jane with his dagger, but at the same time withdrew his own worn short sword his belt, slashing harder and harder at the redhaired squire. He was clearly her superior in strength, and Jester felt the bile rise in him as he watched the man force Jane backwards, landing blows on her which caused her to wince and even cry out.

Jester pushed himself out of his crouch, wincing at the throbbing sensation in his arm, which was warm and sticky with his blood. Ignoring the wound, he leant over noiselessly, and picked up a piece of wood from the pile of firewood, ignoring the protesting screams from his arm and sore muscles. Hoisting the wood in the air, he took a run at the man, whose back was to him.

With all of his strength, he hit the dark hooded form in the head, a loud, satisfying _thunk!_ resounding throughout the cave. The man fell, dropping his sword, but as he hit the ground he slapped the dirt floor and rolled away from them, landing in a crouch.

"Here!" Jane said sharply, tossing Jester one of the short swords. He fumbled with it, barely managing to get a hold on it with his good arm, and raised it in front of him defensively, once more feeling susceptible and foolish. "Just hack at him if you get a chance. Forget about finess and technique and just _slash_." Jane ordered.

Jester nodded.

Together, they advanced on the man, circling him. His twisted and turned, trying to keep them both in his line of sight at once, spitting curses under his breath. He aimed a flailing kick at Jester, barely clipping his leg, and Jane took the oppertunity to smash the hilt of her sword against his skull. He fell forwards, half on his hands and knees, half lying flat. One of his hands, bloodied with blade marks, clutched his head where Jane had bashed him.

"What are you going to do, wench? Kill me? Ha! I'd like to see you try." The man panted, his rough voice defiant. Jane pressed the tip of her sword against his throat, tipping his face up to look her directly in the eyes.

"I don't enjoy making small talk with petty thieves who ruin perfect nights by waking me up when I am exhausted and sore, so don't try my patience," she said icily, pressing the point tighter against his throat. "So, if you want to walk away with your right hand intact, you're going to answer some questions,"

Jester grimaced. The punishment for any kind of thievery was the loss of one's right hand, a gruesome and at the same time mild penalty. It applied to both men and women, adults and children alike. The goal was to prevent future crimes, though should a thief already missing a hand be caught, the secondary penalty was a public hanging.

To go through life with the absence of that hand was a mark of humiliation, a cause of ridicule and shame.

Jester squirmed.

The thief growled unintelligably, his eyes downcast in defeat. Jester relaxed, looking back to Jane. She looked up, as well, but jumped as the man made a sudden movement, his fist closing riskily on the blade of the sword in attempts to get it out of her grip. Jane reacted swiftly, twisting her wrist to prevent him from knocking it out of her hands, and pulled her arm backwards. The man let out a grunting cry as the steel blade carved a deep slash into his hand.

"Jester, some rope, please. It seems our 'guest' would prefer to be uncooperative."

Jester thrust a hand into the saddlebag, and withdrew a length of thick rope. Jane took it, and expertly bound the thief's arms to his sides. Her hands ran deftly over his tunic, and withdrew the last of the blades hidden there.

"How cliche...you horse thieves are all so very predictable- and _mismatched weapons_? Please," she muttered, shaking her head and then straightening. Brushing herself off, she sat down and leaned back against the pile of rubble, crossing one leg over the other and gazing analitically at the man.

"Comfortable?" she asked sweetly.

"Bit**," the thief replied. Jane nodded her head in acknowledgement.

"That's nice," Jane winked at Jester, whose face betrayed his fury at the insults the man was throwing.

_How can I just stand by and let this...this scum of a bast*** insult her_, he though angrily. Jane, seeing his fury, held up a warning hand.

"Watch carefully. Once you get the way their brains think, these scum are easy to figure out and handle," she whispered to him, too quietly for the man to hear.

"Now, sir, first of all I would like to know your name, if you please?"

"That's none of your business, you-"

Jane raised her eyebrows and looked meaningfully at the sword in her hands.

"I will have you know that I am a knight of the King's guard, and so it is _very _much my business."

"Hell, and I'm bonny Prince Cuthbert! No! I'm King Caradoc himself! God's teeth, who ever heard of a _girl_ knight?" The man snorted. Jester clenched his hands into fists, placing them behind his back to keep from flying at the man and strangling him for his filthy mouth and disrespect.

"By order of the Knights of Kippernia Castle, under the rulership of King Caradoc the Younger, you are hereby commanded to state your name," Jane said with authority. The man sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Now that I think of it, I think that I _might_'_ve_ heard a rumour about a girl who was a dragon rider up at the castle. Thought it was just a rumour, though," he grunted, "Very well, wench. I'll play your game of make believe, with fairies and dragons and fiddlesticks. For a while, that is.

"To answer your question, I'm known as Léon Gallais, also christened '_Le Grimoire_' by some of them more gullible folk. There, happy, you little-" He glared icily at Jane.

"Very well, _Léon_," Jane said, "You are hereby charged with attempted robbery, and for harming two members of his majesty's royal court."

"Ooh. I'm terrified. A little hothead of a girl and her lapdog," he spat.

"Show some respect, cur," Jester spat, struggling to keep his language mild and the rage from colouring his voice a burning crimson. "Or you will answer to me!" Léon grinned, seeing through Jester's attempt to hide his anger.

"Come on, boy. Pick up your blade and take a swing. Let's have a go, then. What've you to fear from old Léon, eh?"

Jester hesitated, looking from the man to Jane and back again. His eyes burned blackly, betraying his longing to wring the man's neck, to make him swallow his words and to wish he had never been born. Jester wished that he could beat some sense into this Léon, to right him, and yet to also make him suffer. Jester wished that he could be more like... Sir Ivon, or Gunther, even, at least for a moment, just so he could teach this scum something he wouldn't forget. And prove that he was worthy of Jane.

_Besides_, Jester tried to reason against his more sensible half, and yet also knowing that that was not his true purpose, _this can't be the first of the man's crimes, especially if he has a reputation in the area. It wouldn't be the last, unless...unless someone took the innitiative when it presented itself..._

"Jester," Jane's voice was a low, warning sound. Jester scowled, feeling cross. What justice could they serve out here if they were to leave the man- they were a day's ride from the nearest town, and there would not be soldiers and officials prancing round the foothills.

"Be quiet, wench, let him decide for himself," the man barked. Jane frowned, and shook her head at Jester.

"Jane..." Jester said, his eyes hard as he gazed at the man, who grinned back wickedly, "I'm _really_, very sorry, but I have to do this." He set his mouth, thinking how much he had changed in even a day out of castle walls.

"Jester, NO! Come off it!"

"Come _on_, lad, show Léon what you've got!"

"_JESTER!_" Jane leapt to her feet, but Jester ignored her, holding his shortsword in front of him. He swung clumsily, and Léon threw himself into a roll to dodge it. Jane lunged for Jester's arm, but he shook her off, watching warily as Léon landed on his knees, wobbling slightly as he pushed himself into a crouch.

"D'you wanna maybe untie me first? It would make this easier. I promise to give you a fair enough fight."

"Jester, _stop_!" Jane shouted again, grabbing his arm, and reaching for the shortsword. As he struggled to keep his hold, she knocked it out of his hands, and if clattered noisily at the feet of the thief. A single, silent glance passed between highwayman and lady knight- one exultant and the other horrified. Léon grinned blackly, throwing himself towards the sword. He pressed his rope bonds against the blade, grinning as they were cut through.

Jane gave a frustrated cry, diving towards the man. His hands now free to balance him out, Léon threw a spiralling kick at her, which connected solidly with her stomach. She grunted as she was thrown backwards, the contents of her dinner surfacing noxiously from the blow.

Jester stood very still, horrified, as he watched her crash onto the ground and roll into the pile of rubble where she had sat moments earlier. Small pebbles clattered downwards.

"I'll see you later, lad. No time to play with children today, enjoyable though it may be," Léon winked. "Oh, and if you want my advice, as long as she isn't wanting to kill you when she comes round, you and her should..." He grinned wickedly, as Jester gaped, and then Léon turned on his heel and vanished like a wraith into the underbrush.

Jester turned around, and felt his heart leap in fear at Jane's figure still lying on the ground.

"Jane!" He called, falling beside her and turning her face to his.

She had little cuts and scrapes on her face, including a few blossoming violet bruises. On her arms, there were the slashes of a blade which cut through her shirt and onto her skin beneath. Jester looked back to her face, and gave her a light shake. She mumbled something indistinct, and he sighed in relief that there had not been any serious or fatal damage done.

A sharp jab of pain hit him heavily, and he winced as the wound in his left arm began to throb violently. He sat back clutching it. The wound was not extremely deep, but it was not just a surface scratch, either. Jester scowled, as a fresh wave of pain doused him angrily.

"This is...ugh!"

"Stupid..."

He looked down swiftly, as Jane glared up at him almost groggily.

"Yeah, that guy was," Jester said, ripping off a strip of cloth from his tunic and pressing it against the slash in his arm. "I'm glad you're okay, though. I was scared for a minute."

"No, that's not what I meant," Jane said, slowly pushing herself into a sitting position against the rocks, putting one hand to her head. "I meant that what you did was _really_ stupid."

Jester turned to look at her.

"Wh-?"

"I mean, look! Why did you have to do that? What did you just gain by that? What were you trying to prove?" She groaned, eyes shut as she massaged her head.

"Excuse me, Jane? But..."

"But _what_?" she shouted, her eyes snapping open, emerald fire. "Jester, you could have gotten us both killed! Don't try to be...to be... _Gunther_ or something! It's not helping!"

"You think I'm trying to be _GUNTHER_?!?!" Jester said.

"Yes! What do you call that, if not trying to be Gunther? You let petty remarks get to you, to build up your ire. Don't you realize that _that was what he wanted_? He was goading you, _trying_ to get you to fight him! And now we just lost him. What were you thinking?"

"I was trying to protect your honor! I couldn't let him speak to you like that!"

"Ha!" She laughed hollowly, "In case you hadn't noticed, Jester, I kind of gave up any social respect when I decided to become a knight. Being called names is rather trivial to me! But now, look at you! You're hurt! Stupid, stupid boy!"

"Jane, I-"

Jane glared at him, drowning his words with a veridian gaze.

"Well...let me help you...you're hurt, too..." He finished.

"And if you hadn't been trying to be Gunther, and trying to be brave, maybe I wouln't be!!!"

"Does this mean you'd prefer Gunther over me?"

Jane exploded, emotions tumbling over. "MAYBE I WOULD!"

Jester froze.

"I...if ...that's how you want it then, Jane. Your...yes, your happiness comes first. No one has to know that any of...erm... this has happened."

"Don't say that."

Jester shook his head.

"It's obviously what you want, Jane."

"No...I-" She swore vicously. "You know what? Let's just get moving. We can talk about this later." Her tone was sharp and final, and Jester felt himself nod, blinking back the tears that were fighting to spill over.

He would always remember to put her happiness and wishes first from now on, even if she didn't care. Even if she wanted Gunther instead. Even if she was furious with him.

Even if she never spoke to him again.

Because he had a feeling that their friendship had just taken an angry blow.

* * *

**Author's End Note: So, do you want any more story? If you do, click the little green "REVIEW" button down there. Thank you!!!**


	9. Lapdog

**Author's Note: He-ey! I'm back (finally) with chapter 9. Yay! Sorry I've been away so long. In my absence I've been kind of busy with schooling, writing a fic for the Tales of Vesperia fandom (it's not up yet), writing and SCRAPPING a one-shot fic for Jane and Jester (it was complete rubbish), doing random stuff, giving my friends advice, and being sick (like I am now. Stupid flu/cold season.)**

**So...hmmm... yeah, I've been writing this chapter for a few weeks on and off. It's (again) kind of a cliffie, just to warn you. But please read it and then review, because I need to make sure you want to know what happens next (I'm excited, because I actually kow where this is going for like the next two-three-or-maybe-even-four chapters, and it will be exciting, and full of fluff and stuff)**

**Enough of my rambling. Go read.**

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Lapdog**

An uncomfortable silence pressed down on them for days, thick, suffocating and uncrossable, as they trekked slowly through the landscape of vast moors and spindly groves. Jester could feel it piercing him slowly, painfully, a dagger being pushed lethargically through his heart. Though it seemed impossible to endure, he did so in silence.

And, in silence, he found himself brooding.

Everything seemed to reflect his mood- the dark, rolling clouds getting closer by the day, the sharp scents in the air that come before a storm, the sluggish gaits of their mounts beneath them, the look of the diminutive trees. Even the shock of red hair seemed dispirited as Jane rode on ahead of him, not glancing back and _not _speaking. She had not uttered more than one word at a time in two days.

He sighed, his heart aching violently.

It always seemed to go back to pain when it came to Jane and his relationship, as if some unseen force wished them apart. There had always been either the pain of not being with her and the pain of loving her while he believed that she did not return the emotion. Now there was the pain of ruining his chances with her. But, each time beforehand, something had happened almost instantly to rekindle his hope, and heal the wounds inflicted upon him. Now, he saw no hope. He felt lost in the shadows of hopelessness. The sting of Jane's cutting words had pierced him deeply, and blood continued to flow from the wounds. He felt no reassurance that it would ever be the same.

"_My heavy heart doth not mend,_" he sang quietly to himself, "_And I shall never love again_..."

He closed his eyes, trying to understand what had gone wrong, in hopes that Jane would abolish her threat.

Behind closed lids, he pictured the scene, and had to admit now, he _had_ been acting rashly. _I _am_ a fool. A _true_ fool,_ he chided himself bitterly. _Maybe Jane was right...maybe I was trying to...trying to...well, not be Gunther exactly...but still, trying to impress her._ He swore at himself silently. _Either way, it was stupid and only got me into this mess. _Jester swore under his breath.

He pressed his face forwards in frustration onto Valiant's neck. The mare whickered and tossed her head lightly, but Jester kept his head close to the animal's neck, breathing in the scent of horse and sweat, of freedom and excitement. The scent of rugged, wild beauty.

It made him start, as he realized how this now familiar scent only made him think of Jane. He grimaced.

Of all of her words, the most cutting were those in response to his question of whether she would or would not prefer Gunther. Those three words, "maybe I would", seemed to reverberate inside of him, shaking him to the very bone and cleaving his happiness to hollowness. How _could_ she even consider Gunther? He was rude, boastful, proud, dishonest, uncouth...a swirling list of angry, unpleasant words flooded Jester's thoughts, replacing pain with fury and confusion, as well as something that Jester knew only too well. Jealousy, glowing emerald green, had rekindled its spark in his heart, wedging the flame deeply into some new-formed fissure.

"_Silent misery doth fall, of growing anguish from thy call_-"

"We should probably set up camp," Jane said, interrupting his murmured melody.

"Right," Jester agreed sadly, knowing that this quietly commanding tone would probably be all the civility that he would receive. It was clear to him that she was still upset, but Jester couldn't blame her.

They rode on in pitiful silence, towards the closest natural shelter- an outcropping of rocks with a few straggly trees to provide a canopy.

"We had better use the tent from Smithy." Jane murmured, keeping her gaze averted. Jester nodded.

"Of course."

Together, they awkwardly unpacked the small canvas tent. It was a plain thing, not brightly coloured like the tents of the travelling players. It had a strange, oil-and-waxy sort of feeling to it.

Jester fingered one of the corners, and a small smile danced upon his lips. The first smile in two days.

"It seems as though Smithy has taken the leisure to have the canvas covered in a mixture of tallow and oil. To, you know, lessen the amount of rain that would leak through the cloth?"  
Jane nodded.

"Thoughtful of him." She admitted, as they began arranging the ropes and poles to hold it up.

With little speaking and much discomfort, they made quick work of the task. As they added the finishing touches, a light rain began to fall, pattering across their faces.

"I'll take first watch," Jane said quickly, prodding him towards the mouth of the tent.

"But, I-"

"Just do as I say." She said wearily.

"As my lady commands," he said softly, bowing. He turned to the tent, peeling back the flap and tossing in his and Jane's bedrolls.

"I...Jester?"

"Yes?" He asked, looking over his shoulder. Jane had her back to him, and was gazing skyward. Rain ran in rivulets over her cheeks, as the storm began to unleash its vengeance.

"I...umm...I'm..." She sighed with frustration, before saying more softly, "Be ready for your turn at watch in a few hours. Get a good few hours of sleep."

"Very well. Goodnight milady."

"Goodnight," she whispered back, as Jester stepped through the flap, and began to curl up on his bedroll. And, though his thoughts pounded him like the brewing storm, Jester fell into sleep upon laying his head down, praying for a better tomorrow.

* * *

"Come now, love. We just wanted a friendly chat. What'dya say, eh?" Jester stirred groggily, rolling over on his cot. There was a voice, deep, booming and crude, that seemed to come from beyond the confines of the tent. A male voice that should not be there.

Jester lay very still, as the male voice spoke again from outside the tent. He could hear Jane snap something venomous, which was met by a chorus of boisterous, guffawing male voices.

"I'm going to say this once more, bog-weevils. Leave, now, or suffer the punishment," she roared. The men snickered.

"Oooh, lovey here has a bark," the seeming ringleader of the band howled. "Shall we see if she has a bite, as well, chaps?"

There were obscene hoots and hollers, and Jester felt his blood grow chilled. He looked round himself for a weapon, but his sword was deep within his pack.

"Come one step closer, and you'll pay," Jane snarled.

"Come now. Just be a good little girlie and-"

Jester heard to sound of metal being drawn, and a howl of pain. The men began to holler in fury.

"_Wench!_ I guess Léon was right 'bout you, after all. You're a tricky one." He snorted. Jester heard a resounding -_thwack!_-, as Jane gasped.

Jester could feel the bile rising in his throat. How _dare_ this man speak to Jane this way? Before he realized what he was doing, he had sprung from the tent, eyes blazing sapphire fire.

The scene that met his eyes made his breath catch.

There were maybe fifteen of them. Unshaven brutes, that stunk of filth and sweat. Their eyes shone with blackness- murder, lust, greed.

Jester's eyes immediately caught sight of Jane, lying clutching her stomach at the feet of the apparent leader. Jester blanched.

The man turned to Jester, and delight shone in his green eyes. He seemed just as filthy as the rest of the men, with his long sandy blonde hair falling greasily about his face. There was a long, fresh cut that spanned his face from cheekbone to chin.

"Ah, so this is lovey here's lapdog that Léon told us 'bout? I gotta say, I'm not impressed." He laughed.

"You, sir, were asked to leave," Jester said coldly, glancing from Jane to the man and back again. He struggled to keep the pain from his voice, as he watched Jane doubled over at this man's feet, obviously from a blow to the abdomen. "And I advise you to do so now."

"O-ho! Hear that, gents? This 'ere lapdog _advises_ us to leave." He chuckled at some private joke, and twirled his blade playfully. "What're we gonna tell 'im, eh?" He spat, and nudged Jane with his foot.

"Don't. Touch. Her." Jester growled, taking a step forwards. Two men, a red head and a brunet, matched his advance.

"I'll do as I please, and you'll have a mind to _let me have my way_." The man's voice was velvet poison. "Chaunce, Brycen, let's get her to the camp. Léon and I both love our wine and women."

"Wh-? _NO!_" Jester lunged for the man's throat, only to find his fingers constricting on air. The brunet and the red head grabbed his arms, pinning them to his sides.

"Just finish him Cliff," the brunet, Chaunce, complained to the leader.

"Where'd the fun in that be?" Cliff asked, a pout forming on his face. "Nah, I want him to remember this!"

"Monster!" Jester spat, struggling against Chaunce and Brycen's hold.

Cliff sighed.

"You know, though, lapdog, you're kinda irritating me. So you just be quiet a few hours, alright? If yer lucky, you won't even remember any of this when you wake up!"

With that, he brought the hilt of his blade smashing down upon Jester's head. The last thing Jester saw before blackness swallowed him completely was Cliff's smiling face.

"Sweet dreams, lapdog."


	10. Foundling

**Author's Note: Whoohoo! A consecutive posting! YEAH!  
****...  
Ahem. =_=**

**Well, here's the next chapter! And it's up so fast because A)I'm sick, so I have time to write. Lots and _lots_ of time, where I do nothing but sit in bed typing this and get half-way through the next chapter, and plan out Jester's whole family tree and-...yeah. So I have a lot of time on my hands. And B)There were some very nice reviews that made me smile when I woke up and read them on my Blackberry, so I felt motivated to write and not leave you hanging too much.**

**So, this one isn't much of a cliffie. You can relax. It's more of a transition/introduction/other stuff chapter. Not as "transition-ish" as the next chapter will be, but...  
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**Foundling**

"Look at him, poor thing. He's been beaten near to death!" Cool, gentle hands touched Jester's battered face in a motherly way. "Why, I think he'd have _been _dead had we not found him any sooner, poor lad."

Jester wasn't sure he _wasn't_ already dead. Every inch of him felt as if it was burning, so heatedly that he had become numb as ice. He could not feel his hands, his feet... his very consciousness seemed distant. He could be waking or dreaming and not know the difference, lost in a terrible wave of pain.

"I don't know 'bout that, Octavia. He 'as a strong soul within 'im," a second female voice said softly. "But all the same, damn them curst scuts. They've been getting bold lately, under Léon's leadership. An' this is a step too far. I've half a mind to have my Godric go set fire to their camp." Through a shroud of fatigue and throbbing pain, Jester heard the two women hiss.

"Ay, it's getting too wild."

Once more, cool hands were placed against Jester's forehead, this time pressing something blessedly cold and damp that washed away the fire. A small sigh of relief escaped his lips.

"There," the first woman, Octavia, said softly.

"I...who d'you think he is? He's dressed as a knight, but there's something..."

"That I don't know, Maia, dear. I suppose we'll have to wait until he wakes to know his story."

_My...story...what _was_ my story?_

Then the full force of memories flooded him -memories of Cliff's sneering face, the hooting of the brutish men, and _Jane_... Jester panicked. _Jane!_ Fear caused him to fight against the bonds of fatigue and pain. He forced his eyes open. As he did, the world seemed to be shifting, blurred and vague. Vertigo overtook him, as two faces, one creased and wrinkled, one young and smooth, peered over him in concern.

"I...well, bless my soul, he's waking," the older woman smiled.

"So he is," the young blonde woman nodded.

"I...Jane..._Jane_..." Jester rasped. His throat was parched.

"Shhh...shh...be at peace." The younger woman stroked his hair soothingly, before turning to the elder. "Water, I think, Octavia."

Octavia nodded, and held out a plain water skein, which Maia held to Jester's lips.

"Alright, now, calm yourself," the blonde woman murmured, as Jester drank the refreshing liquid. "Tell us your name, and mayhaps we can go from there."

"I...forgive me... I am Jester, the jester of the Court of King Caradoc in Kippernia Castle," he took a deep, shuddering breath. Maia's eyes widened, glancing to Octavia with an unspoken question dancing upon her lips. Jester couldn't help but think that those eyes looked familiar...

"From the court of _King Caradoc_, dear?" Octavia asked.

"That is correct."

"Well, Jester, dear, you're most welcome here amongst our little caravan. Allow us to introduce ourselves. My name is Octavia, and this here is my niece Maia."

"Your...caravan?" Jester looked around himself, finally noting his surroundings. He lay on a soft cot, pressed against a wall of timber. Brightly coloured cloths covered the opposing walls, though they parted enough for one small, square window with the shutters drawn. Colourful odds and ends were scattered around, and sweet smelling herbs hung from the ceiling.

Maia laughed sweetly.

"I suppose we forgot to mention the fact tha' we are travelling players. The proud Romany...or, as some prefer to call us, the gypsies." She shrugged, "Though, not all of us are- Matthieu, our priest, is a Frenchman, and Juliana is pure Italian. Sings like an angel from Heaven, tha' one."

"_Travelling players_?" Jester asked, incredulous.

"Yes. We originally come from Italy, save a few, though we almost all grew up in the northern moor lands. Under Tiberinus, our leader, we've travelled between the Courts of Spain to the Island of Crete to the northern Germanic kingdoms. Octavia, my aunt, is married to my uncle Tiberinus." She smiled, before a shadow flickered over her face. "My parents, also, are travelling players. Or rather, were..." She bit her lip.

"Forgive me. I would not wish to bring up any... painful memories." Jester murmured quickly. "Perhaps you could tell me...how long I've been here?"

"Not even a day, dear," Octavia replied. "We had been on our way to the next town, perhaps five hours past, when we spotted the scoundrels making away from your camp. Naturally, we came to see what damage had been done, and that's when we found you, knocked cold senseless," she frowned and _tsk_ed. "We've had trouble from Léon's crowd recently. Getting too bold, they are. Their antics are lowering our income, seeing as less decent folk are travelling these routes. And this is getting too much.

"It appeared as if you had taken a blow to the head from them when we found you, which I'm guessing is what had you senseless, but then it appears as if they'd beaten every inch of you before leaving." She shook her head, the silver hair that escaped her headscarf swaying like a pendulum.

"I...please. Tell me. When you spotted them leaving, did you see...a...a woman, with hair that was vibrant as flame among them?"

Maia paused a moment, as if replaying the scene in her memory.

"Yes, I do think I remember seeing a scrap of red," she nodded slowly. "I think at the time, I had assumed it was some cloth or other, but now that you mention it..."

"_Jane_..." Jester whispered, closing his eyes. He had failed. Failed to protect her, failed any promise he had ever made to her, failed...

He gulped. Dragon would roast him alive.

"I'll assume that this lady was very dear to you?" Octavia murmured, one of her tanned, weathered hands grasping Jester's in a comforting way.

He nodded.

"Immensely," he whispered back, eyes still shut. "She was everything." And so he proceeded to tell the tale for their journey, solely omitting a few very personal and painful memories.

Octavia and Maia were an exceptional audience, gasping and hissing at exactly the right parts. At one point, when Jester described Cliff's taunts and foul crudeness, Maia actually leapt to her feet and proclaimed very loudly that the brute would pay very dearly at the point of her blade, before Octavia pulled her back onto her stool and reminded her very gently that she couldn't properly wield a blade as of yet.

"...and so, I found myself here," Jester concluded. "Many thanks for you having come to my rescue." The atmosphere of the caravan seemed to have sobered, as the rain continued to fall over its roof, pattering a steady tattoo.

"I...don't even know what to say. You are a formidable storyteller. I can tell most certainly that you have some of the Romany within you." Maia murmured finally, shaking her blonde head, "And, I swear, Cliff _will_ pay, damn him."

"All I want, really, is to save Jane," Jester said softly. "I suppose that it's too late for that, though, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't count on that," Octavia replied, standing up and brushing off her many skirts. "It is a six day ride until Léon's camp. And judging the fact that Léon likes to play with his toys, break their spirits, I'd reckon you have at least two more weeks if this Jane is half the woman you portray her to be. But, she seems strong, and wilful. So I'd guess that there is mayhap a month, perhaps more, depending on her behaviour and resolve."

"What? So there's still hope?"

Jester sat up abruptly, before wincing at his bruises and lying back down.

Maia nodded, her fingers absently toying with one corner of her shawl.

"Ay, there is. I can feel it. Octavia, this... _Jane_...her fate is strongly tied in with both his _and_ our own. She will last long before she even begins to show signs of cracking." She fixed Jester with that familiar blue stare. "I reckon you still have time, to both heal and strengthen, before you save her."

Jester opened his mouth, but Maia held up a hand. "Not by yourself, though. You won't be able. There are twenty-odd men in that camp." She looked pensive

Jester glanced at Octavia, puzzlement etched over his face.

"Maia is a seer, dear," the elder woman explained. "She..._feels_ _things_... that others cannot perceive. Sort of a gut instinct, that knows things like the coming rain. Usually small things like that."

"Is it true?" Jester asked, eyes wide. Maia winked.

"Of course it is. The trade of the gypsy!" She laughed "And, anyways, I also have something I would like to both bring up and settle with this Cliff."

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**Author's End Note: Just to let you know, as a side note, the names I picked for these two gypsies are Roman/Latin names. I picked them because I remember Martin Baynton saying that Jester's real name is a Roman name, and considering that _his_ family are gypsies like these two kind ladies, I thought I'd give them Roman names as well, as a sort of tribute/connection to Jester's name. ;)  
Hope you liked this chapter. The next one will be up ASAP. But if you want to read it, I want you to click that little green review button down there and tell me what you think, okay?**

**Lots of love, XOXO  
-Mintermist**


	11. Days

**Author's Note: Hey! Happy Friday the 13th! Man, this is my favourite day of the year! Why? Because sometimes my birthday falls on it. Not now, but..._sometimes. _You should like this day, too, because I finished this chapter this morning. Yes I'm still sick, so you can thank that, too.**

**And, thank you for all the reviews. They are very encouraging and are what keeps this going.**

**Have I ever mentioned that this is the longest thing that I've ever written?**

**Anyways, I'm feeling kind of loopy (stupid flu-thing) and I'm going to go get a hot drink. Enjoy. (PS I don't know when the next chapter will be up. I'll try to be quick-ish. But I can't guarantee. So you are forewarned if I disappear until May.)**

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**Days**

"Ah, so this is where you've been spending your time these three days past, my love!" A tall, handsome man entered the caravan, bending down to drop a kiss upon Maia's cheek. She smiled, reaching up from her work to give his hand a light squeeze.

"Ay, playing nursemaid to the poor lad. Look at him, poor thing! Can't help himself any more than little Hart could." she half-joked. The man laughed, an easy, open sort of laugh, as Maia patted Jester's hand.

"Jester, allow me to introduce you to my husband. Godric, this is Jester. Jester, meet my Godric."

Jester liked the man immediately. Guessing his age to be perhaps twenty-one, Godric seemed an amiable man with a warm, easy temper. His eyes seemed to dance and twinkle with kindness and wisdom, their colour a deep golden tawny. Light brown hair fell to about his shoulders, and his skin was tanned with the sun.

"Well, I'm pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Jester, after these three days. Maia here's been speaking of you like family!" He tilted his head to the side. "And, by Jove, I could almost swear that the two of you _were_ kin!" He shook his head and laughed. "All the same… well, here's the matter at hand of which I came to speak to you, Jester. Maia has told us about your Jane, and after a bit of…_deliberation_…amongst ourselves, we've finally agreed to help in the 'rescue_age_ of thine fair lady'." He took a dramatic player's pose. "Ay, we may seem as simple traveling players, winning coin by our humble act, but certain..._circumstances_," he sobered, glancing at Maia before continuing. The woman had stiffened noticeably, her eyes resolutely focused upon the poultice she was brewing. "Certain circumstances have forced us to take up the fighting and defensive arts, and we've agreed to teach you what we know. As well as assist in the attack itself, of course." Godric finished, touching Maia's shoulder gently. She shook her head slightly, and Godric nodded as though in response to some silent conversation. Jester gulped, unsure, before brushing his curiosity aside.

"I...why, thank you! Are you in earnest? It's certainly more than I could have ever hoped for!"

Godric clapped him on the shoulder.

"Nonsense! Now, once you are well enough to stand, which I reckon shall be soon enough, Wymund -another of our party- and I shall begin instructing you in some of our fighting arts." He grinned, lightening the mood. "And, I must say, you have a very fine shortsword in that pack of yours. Forgive us if it seems as if we were intruding, but we took the liberty to bring your packs onto one of the caravans, along with your tent and bedrolls. We figured that you would most likely wish to keep them within your possession."

"Again... thank you! You have shown more kindness than I could have expected."

Godric smiled.

"Not at all, friend!"

The creak of the door opening made all three of them look up.

"Hullo, Godric, Maia, Jester," Octavia called, shaking rainwater from her head as she stepped in. "Just thought I'd bring the little one around a moment. He's been dying to see his mama and da, I think."

"The little one?" Jester asked, confused. Maia smiled at Godric, as the man reached out for the squirming little bundle in Octavia's arms.

"Hart," Godric murmured, "I'd like you to meet Jester."

A pair of blue eyes mirroring Maia's blinked at Jester from within the blanket, which Godric placed on the cot. Before Jester could utter a word, a beautiful little boy, between the stages of baby and toddler, crawled straight up to him. His eyes were wide and blue like his mother's, and he had a little tuft of brown hair the same shade as his father's. Jester was enchanted.

"Un…ka.." Hart said, pointing a little finger up at Jester.

"How old is he?" Jester asked, spellbound by the little child.

"Just over a year and a half," Godric replied, kissing Maia lovingly. "He's his mama and my pride and joy, that one."

"Un...ka..." Hart repeated, frowning comically as if puzzled by a difficult equation.

"No, love, that's Jester," Maia murmured to her child.

"Je...ta?" Hart repeated slowly, as if tasting the word. He shook his head, waving his arms as infants do. "No un...ka."

The adults laughed.

"Well, bless my soul. The little dear is certainly stubborn," Octavia laughed. "Now, I suppose we ought to let Jester have some more rest, the poor lad. Come on, Godric. Take your little one there... that's right, and let's go and get that supper made and on the table so it can fill some hungry bellies. Maurus has been whining like a beaten dog this past hour, but he's _always_ hungry. Oh, and you sleep, Jester, dear."

The bustling gypsy woman turned, followed closely by Godric and his son.

"She's right, you know," Maia sighed, "Get some sleep. We'll wake you for supper in a few hours. Also, I'm guessing that you'll be having a day or two until you'll be starting those lessons with Godric. So use that time to rest well. Between Godric and Wymund, you're bound to earn a few more bruises."

Jester meant to tell her that one more bruise probably wouldn't hurt anymore, but he was asleep before the words could form in his mouth.

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"Higher!" Wymund barked, as Jester feebly raised the staff under Godric's fierce blows, feeling sluggish as his feet slogged through the ankle deep mud. "Strike higher an' harder, towards the chest! Harder, lad! Yer not shakin' his hand, so put some force into it! Drive 'is blows back into 'im!" The gypsy ran a hand through his long chocolate brown hair, pulling it back into a horsetail and picking up his own staff. "Watch," he said, taking a swing at Godric. Maia's husband pivoted, bringing the staff up to meet the attack with a resounding _crack_, before unleashing his own torrent.

Jester watched, awestruck. He had seen Jane and Gunther sparring with the staves in the yard more times than he could count, but it was _nothing_ to this. The men fought with a raw power that surpassed that of the squires. The crack of wood on wood, the shuffling of feet on the ground, the grunts of exertion as rain and sweat rolled off their brows, dripping into their eyes; Jester found he was holding his breath simply watching them.

"Your turn," Godric panted, pushing a strand of soaked hair from his eyes as he grinned at Jester. Jester swallowed hard, before raising his staff.

He didn't even manage a step before Wymund interfered.

"Stop," Wymund snapped. "Yer grip...its wrong! Spread yer hands apart, lad. Apart! No, like _that_." He adjusted Jester's hands, but then pointed to his feet. "Now fix yer stance. If I threw a blow at yeh like that, then yeh'd fall over inta the mud! If I'd been an enemy, I'd've hacked yeh down in a heartbeat. So, knees bent, feet staggered. _There_! Now, start again."

Wymund raised his staff, emitting an onslaught of swift, heavy blows. Wood upon wood, Jester focused on driving the blows back to his opponent, wincing as Wymund's blows occasionally landed upon his fingers.

As the rain fell heavier, Wymund's attack increased in both speed and strength. Jester blinked rainwater from his eyes. He was spattered in mud, and soaked with icy water that sent chills to the marrow of his bones.

"Focus!" Wymund barked over the rain. Jester felt him land a blow on his collarbone, and felt his grip on the staff slip from his frozen fingers. Wymund cursed colourfully.

"Master Jester. I repeat myself. If yeh can't keep a hold of yer weapon, whether it be staff or shortsword, yer dog's meat. Yeh must _always_ keep yer mind present. Focus! Get it through yer thick skull. Expect the unexpected. Guard yer back. Always keep yer feet movin'. Use yer brain as well as yer eyes. _Intelligence_! Intelligence is key! Yer not strong enough to afford to be stupid, so yeh must _think_! Focus!" Wymund spat. "Very well. We're done fer the day. See that yer more... _prepared_ tomorrow."

_I'm a failure_. Jester sighed, watching the man stalk away from the improvised practice ground.

"He means well by it, you know," Godric said lightly. "I know he's tough, but it's for the best in the long run."

Jester scowled, massaging his collarbone. Godric rolled his eyes and tapped Jester with the butt of his staff.

"Come on, you. We should probably go get cleaned up, before Maia sees us and has a fit. She'd never let us back onto one of the caravans." Godric laughed, steering Jester towards the wash caravan. "You go get cleaned up. There should be a pair of clean breeches and a tunic in there. I just have to go check something with Wymund first, regarding our supplies. Be back in a moment."

Jester nodded, stripping off his mud stained tunic as he entered the caravan.

The room was small, filled with clean linens and cloths, and to one side there was a moderate-sized bathing tub. Once more, herbs hung to dry from the ceiling, their distinct aroma rising like a cloud.

Slipping out of his breeches and grabbing a chunk of tallow soap, Jester quickly dipped himself into the water, wincing as the cold liquid made contact with his skin. He took a deep breath before dunking his head, scrubbing meticulously with the soap. Where it touched, the soap stung faintly, the sensation of immaculate cleanliness.

Jester shivered as he came up from under the water, and leant against the coarse wooden slats of the tub, running a hand through his wet hair.

He had been with the gypsies for a total of four days now, and the ease with which he had slipped into their free lifestyle shocked him. He felt as if...as if...

_As if I've betrayed Jane by this_, he thought sadly, fisting his hand into his hair. They had been apart a week now...

He closed his eyes, picturing her, feeling his heart throbbing. He could just see her, as if she stood next to him. Her green eyes would flash with defiance as her oppressors taunted her, and her red hair would bounce as she threw back a retort. On the inside, how hopeless and _abandoned_ she would feel, as if her world had crumbled around her.

He blinked, returning to the present.

_I swear, I will _kill_ Cliff if he so much as touches her_, he vowed solemnly, stepping from the tub and snatching a clean pair of clothes. He shrugged into the tunic, the plain wool warm and abrasive against his skin, and pulled on the tan breeches.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Jester?" Godric's voice called, muffled by the thick wood. "Are you finished yet? Maia is eager to have you seated at the table so that she might introduce you to the rest of our company. And she shan't be kept waiting much longer, I wager."

"Coming!"

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The aroma of sweetly herbed fish was mouth-watering when Jester entered the well-packed, well-lit caravan. A dozen new faces sat packed around a single rough-hewn timber table, along with Maia and Octavia smiling at Jester and waving towards a seat for him.

"Jester!" Maia scolded playfully. "You've kept us waiting!"

"Not too long, I hope," he replied, as Maia rolled her eyes.

"But long enough, lad," a bearded man interjected. "Far too long, almost, when there are starving bellies to fill."

Octavia slapped the man lightly over the crown of his skull.

"For shame!" The elderly woman frowned. "Please forgive Maurus, Jester. My son is oft known for his grumbling spirit. A trait that won't allow itself to be cured."

"Not at all," Jester said, glancing at the bearded man in confusion. Maurus scowled darkly, curling his lip at Jester before turning to the woman on his left.

"Have I done something wrong?" Jester murmured to Octavia. The woman sighed and shook her head.

"No, there is no fault of your own. Maurus is simply not a very... _compassionate_ soul. He...and shame unto my tongue for admitting this, but he _resents_ your being here." She pursed her lips. "But it is no fault of your own. The coward brings his resent upon himself. Pay it no heed."

Jester grimaced.

"May I ask why he resents me?"

"For a few reasons. The least being, as I said, for he is a coward. And seeing as the rescue of your Jane will most likely result in a confrontation of some sort, his lack of bravery comes through like rust in copper. Self-preservation dictates that he should be opposed to that which places his own life in danger, and he forces himself to detest that which he believes is the root of that danger." She rolled her eyes. "Which is, in his eyes, _you_. But, as I said, pay it no heed. He is bitter about most things in life. If not for sweet Linota there, his wife, I would swear that the man would shrivel into a sour grape." She sighed, sipping her mead.

"You said he is your son?"

"Ay, that he is. The elder of the two I was blessed with, Wymund being the younger by two year."

Jester caught sight of the training master from across the table, taking a swig of gin as he conversed with the man beside him. He had jet black hair, and an olive tone to his skin.

"Octavia, I confess to being curious. There are many faces which I don't recognize tonight..."

Octavia smiled, the wrinkles around her eyes seeming to laugh.

"Yes, you have not been acquainted with the majority of our party as of yet." She adjusted her headscarf, taking another sip of mead. "Very well. So, you have just had an encounter with my elder son, Maurus. The woman beside him is the sweet red-haired Linota. She is quite the opposite of my son- it yet astounds me that she should fall in love with him, they seem so ill suited!" She laughed. "The woman beside her, well, that is Amice. She journeyed from France with our resident priest, Père Matthieu, some summers ago, and is married to Lucius, the man to her left with the jet-black hair. Yes, him, speaking to Wymund." She pointed, "He's a kind enough man, Lucius is. A bit on the quiet side, but insightful when we have need of his counsel, and a mighty wielder of the bow.

"And of course, you'll have met Wymund today. In all his brusqueness, he has a good heart and means well. Beside him is Père Matthieu. He is an..._interesting_ fellow, though I can't say I agree with all he has to say regarding certain topics. And beside him is Juliana, Wymund's wife. She is our little Italian angel with a voice gifted from Heaven itself. You must hear her sing- there is not a soprano in all of Rome with a voice as pure and sweet as she.

"Beside _her_ is her brother, Ippolito. Italy runs strong within his veins. He is a skilled artisan, perhaps a little moody on occasion, but generally of good spirits. He is married to Eleonora beside him, the one holding the babe, little Caterina, in her arms."

Jester's eyes traced from face to face, watching the light of laughter in eyes and the love between kin- between man and wife, brother and sister, child and parent. It was, in a word, beautiful.

The door to the caravan opened, and two men entered.

"So, finally, Godric, you decide to show your hide, after having a jolly little laugh for making us wait?" Maurus spat. His wife murmured something most likely soothing, but he shook her off, leaping to his feet.

"Peace be on you, Maurus, my son. I won't have you causing unrest under my roof," one of the men spoke. His hair, at one point black, was streaked silver, emitting a halo of luminescence over his lordly face. Black eyes, both stern and understanding, gazed unwaveringly at the disgruntled man from beneath stern brows. _Tiberinus_, Jester thought, recognizing the authority with which he spoke. And yet, Maurus slammed a fist on the table with a wild cry.

"Peace be damned while we eat with cur and are obliged to do their dirty work for them! I will have none of it!"

"Hush, Maurus. And shame on you, speaking that way," Octavia snapped, glancing at Jester with worried eyes. "Again, please, forgive him, Jester, dear."

Jester nodded, keeping his expression vacant.

"Now, keep your silence Maurus, before you cause yourself more shame and bring judgment upon yourself."

Maurus grumbled something vile.

"The only shame is in his presence! What is _he_ to us? What is his _Jane_ to us?"

There was an angry outcry. Chairs were flung back and voices raised.

"SILENCE!" Tiberinus shouted over the din. "Sir, I am ashamed to call you my own flesh and blood. You call yourself Rom? Ha. You mock the very bloodline. We help, Master Maurus, as we would help kin. As we would help kin, we help in _all_ struggles, and we do so _gladly_. So. Keep. Your. Peace."

A set of black eyes met with brown, righteous fire, and the gaze was held. Maurus blinked, and suddenly sat back down.

"Enough. This was meant to be a celebration." Tiberinus called. "Carry on, friends, carry on. Enough has been said here."


	12. Kin

**Author's Note: Well, I'm not sick anymore. I appologize for making you wait a bit for this one. But...yeah. Chapter twelve! Another 2000+ words of (hopefully) yummy goodness. And it _would_ have been up way sooner if Fanfic hadn't been stupid and not let me log on. *grumblegrumblegrumble* -_-**

Ah, well, onwards. Thankfully whatever was blocking it was fixed, so, drumroll please!  
Enjoy!  
(And, on an end note, thank you for all the reviews. They, or rather _you,_ are what keep this story going through periods of writer's block. Cheers!)

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Kin

"Sir?" Jester's voice was hesitant as he addressed the leader of the gypsies, who remained seated at the table as the gypsies cleared the dining caravan. He bit his lip, feeling slightly nervous. There was simply something about the man that called for respect, an aura of royalty and wisdom that made him feel as though he spoke to a king or a lord. The elderly man turned his head, black eyes glowing with amusement.

"You do not have to call me 'sir', Jester," he said gently. "We are all treated as equals here." He smiled.

"Of course, si- erm... Tiberinus." Jester felt his face grow warm, as he fumbled with the words. Tiberinus motioned for Jester closer, away from the door.

"Do not be shy, Jester. We are all as family here, whether by blood ties or not. Now, what was it that you wanted to ask me about? I could tell that something was puzzling you this past hour."

"I...well, I was just thinking. Maurus had a point earlier...I mean, it's true, what he said. Why _should_ you help me? Why do you care? What is Jane or I to you that would cause you to risk yourselves? I mean, I'm grateful. It's more than I could have hoped for, and I am truly astounded that you would be so kind as to first take me in, and then teach me to fight, and even more, to help me rescue Jane, and..." He took a deep breath, knowing that he was babbling. "It got me thinking, though. And I found that I kept coming back to one specific thing. You...you said that you would help me as you... would help kin. What did you mean?"

Tiberinus sighed heavily, his face suddenly seeming older and drawn, the lordly fire dimming slightly. It was the face of a man whose griefs have taken their toll, as they cut at his heart over the years.

"Come, sit, Jester. Let me tell you a tale that began...oh, twenty years ago, when this caravan was first establishing itself in the small northern kingdoms, making its way from Italy. Octavia and I had been wed sixteen years or so, with Maurus a thirteen-year-old lad, and Wymund twelve years of age. My wife's family lived and performed with us then, with her mother, three younger sisters and one elder brother as constant company. There were many moments of laughter in those years. And... also many years of struggle.

"At the time, the life of the Roma was hard. Harder than it has ever been in my lifetime. Our income was insignificant, scarcely enough to sustain ourselves as we journeyed from village to village. Truly, it was a rough road that we traveled. The Romany were becoming a dying breed, slowly vanishing under the greed of highwaymen who would murder their own brethren in hopes of gaining a mouthful of gin," he shook his head. "We knew that, for our own protection, our numbers must increase, and so our caravan melded with another. You could almost call them my extended family, though it is not so by blood." Tiberinus paused, his eyes distant as though revisiting an era long ended. A smile perched upon his lips as memories passed before his eyes.

"There was one young man amongst them whom I remember with clarity. He was nineteen, with the free spirit of the Roma strong within him, and already skilled with the traditional gypsy arts and instruments. Much like you, I must add."

"I...like _me_? Really?"

"Ay, Jester, like you. The two of you are very similar, I believe, from all that I have heard of you from my wife and my niece. I suppose we shall see for certain over time, though I have a feeling that..." Tiberinus tilted his head, thoughtful, "All the same. Now, to continue with this tale, before the night grows old."

"Of course," Jester said.

"It was early summer. June. The future had signs of being more prosperous than our current straights, and there was a fresh joy within our caravan. Everything felt light once again, a new beginning. And _that_ was when he met her. My wife's youngest sister, scarcely seventeen years of age. She was a beauty, with blonde hair and blue eyes like the morning mists, and my young friend fell hopelessly in love with her." He smiled, the light of summer days long past shining in his eyes. Jester smiled, imagining the young man and the woman he loved, as Tiberinus continued.

"After a season, my wife's sister also fell in love with the young man. They were like...Venus and Mars, Cupid and Psyche; more perfectly matched than any other and within a year, they were married, and she was with child." Tiberinus smiled, but there was a sad, almost wistful side to his face. "Soon, they broke away from our caravan, as it had grown considerably. They began to travel northwards. We kept in touch with letters, of course, as my wife and her sister had taught us to read and write, and learnt that three weeks after their departure, Octavia's sister had borne a son. We were overjoyed, and I regret not having journeyed after them from Spain to see the child."

"Did you never see the child?" Jester asked.

"No, never. We remained in Spain for the next eight years, receiving word of the birth of first a niece, two years after the first child, and then a second nephew three years later. But we also received word of hard times in the Northern kingdoms. Now, I have a suspicion, Jester, and perhaps this next part of this tale will be familiar to you?

"Seven years after my sister-in-law and her family had departed North, we knew that they had fallen on hard times. They were scraping for food and coin, and Octavia's sister wrote to us telling how she was afraid that she would wake to find her children dead from cold and hunger.

"She also wrote that she had a feeling that her eldest son was meant for more than the life she and her husband could provide for him. He could read, he could write, he could dance and sing. He was, simply, of true Roma descent." Tiberinus paused, glancing at Jester with that even, black stare, and Jester realized that he was holding his breath. He let it out slowly, as Tiberinus continued.

"She wrote to us that she and her husband had a decision to make. One that broke her heart into a thousand obliterated shards, yet brought her hope. They had come to a small kingdom, perhaps you have heard of it, called _Kippernium_, where a King _Caradoc_ and a Queen _Gwendolyn_ offered to take Octavia's sister's eldest boy on as a Court Jester, and give him lodging and an education."

Jester blinked, feeling as though he were falling. As if someone had turned the earth on its head and he fell up, up, _up_ into the sky in a graceful, almost _dreamlike_ ascent. Not a sound could be heard, save the gentle patter of rain on wood. Its rhythmic staccato pounded in Jester's mind like a tiny, elfin hammer.

"Tell me, Jester," Tiberinus's voice was gentle and calm, "You have told Octavia and Maia that you are of Roma descent, have you not? If so, what _were you parents' names_?"

Eyes wide, heart pounding, Jester's mind flashed to a long forgotten memory. A blonde woman sat on a rocking chair in a small, warm caravan. One of her arms held a tiny infant wrapped in a wool blanket. Her other hand caressed Jester's hair as he sat at her feet. The woman sang in a tongue that Jester scarcely remembered, while a man, also blonde, smiled at her as he played a weatherworn lute, plucking each string with grace.

"_Tatiana_," Jester remembered the man murmuring. She stopped singing, a smile fresh upon her face. She looked..._alive_. Free. Joyful.

"_Kassian?_" Jester heard his mother reply. Her voice was gentle and loving, as a mother's voice should be.

Kassian murmured a few words to her in the language that Jester recognized as Romanes, and Tatiana laughed.

The sound of her laughter brought the brief flash of memory to an end, and Jester watched it fade before his eyes with a bittersweet pang of longing. A lump rose in his throat, and his voice shook.

"Tatiana," Jester breathed, "was my mother's name, and Kassian was my father's."

Tiberinus nodded.

"It is as I suspected, then. You are the son of Octavia's sister, Tatiana, and her husband Kassian."

Jester lurched forward, clutching Tiberinus's arm.

"Then...then you are my uncle? And Octavia is my aunt? And...and Maurus and Wymund are my cousins?"

"Ay, lad."

"And....what of my parents? Where are Tatiana and Kassian? Where are my brothers and sisters? It shames me to say that I don't even know all of their names!"

Tiberinus's face was at once drawn.

"That Jester, I do not know for certain. There was a...misfortune that occurred. Maia doesn't like to talk about it, though I know that they are alive. All of them; your siblings, Gaius, Alesso, Silas and Valya are alive, as are your parents"

"I...wait...._Maia_ doesn't like to talk about it?" Jester asked, puzzlement etched across his face. His fingers gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. Tiberinus rested his chin upon one hand, pensive.

"It would appear that, you being the son of Kassian and Tatiana, you would also be the brother of our young niece Maia."

"_WHAT_?! My...my _sister_ is _here_?" Before Jester knew it, he had tears of joy welling at the corners of his eyes. He blinked them back, as Tiberinus placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Ay, lad," the old man's voice cracked slightly with emotion. "Welcome home, my boy, welcome home."

* * *

_He was running. His feet pounded beneath him, pushing him forwards. _Faster, faster, faster_, they seemed to order. His hands clutched the hilt of his blade, the leather familiar and comfortable beneath his now calloused fingers. Quickly, Jester ducked into a copse of trees._

_Ahead of him, he could see the flickering lights of the tents. Smoke from the cooking fires rose from the flames, stretching and curling like hands reaching towards the heavens, threatening to blot out the stars. _

_The sound of men at ease, their laughter and crude jokes rising into a despised chorus of bass and baritone harmony, both cacophonic and harmonic at once, met Jester's ears. An uncharacteristic cold rage pounded through his veins, coursing frigid ice water, as he listened to their vile remarks._

_She was here. Somewhere._

_His eyes scanned the group gathered around the fire pit. Lust, greed, murder...it was all that shone in their faces. The firelight cast flickering shadows, giving them the appearance of monstrous beings. _

_Suddenly, there was a loud cheer. Jester's eyes flickered to a form emerging from a tent, and he felt something knot in his stomach as he recognized it as the form of Cliff. The man was fastening the belt of his breeches, and slipping back into his tunic._

_"Well, lads. It's done. The mare 'as been saddled and mounted. Our little lovey-friend's defense 'as finally crumbled." He laughed heartily._

_Jester felt his knees buckle, realizing what this must mean._

_"No..." he gasped. He was too late. He was too _bloody_ late. "Jane..._Jane. _I'm sorry, love, I'm sorry. Jane..." He repeated her name, feeling the scratchy bark of the tree trunk behind him. He could just picture her, pinioned on the floor of the canvas tent as she struggled, her arms held still as fabric was torn away and Cliff...and Cliff..._

Jester sat up swiftly, breathing heavily and coated in cold sweat. He was shivering, his shoulders shaking convulsively.

"Jane..." he murmured, burying his face in his hands, trying to blot out the images of the dream. There was nothing, _nothing_, more important now. Jane needed him, and soon.

He took a deep breath, glancing out of the small caravan window. The rain had stopped, and the air was fresh as it only is after a heavy storm. Moonlight cast a long glowing beam into the caravan.

"Jane," he murmured into the night, "Jane, I swear this now. I swear that I will save you before...before they..." his voice failed.

A sharp, swift knock on the door made him start.

"Jester?" Maia called. Her voice was tense. There was a sense of urgency to her tone. "Jester, wake up!"

Jester slipped from beneath the covers, wincing at the stinging cold of the wooden floor.

"I'm awake," he called, slipping a tunic on over his breeches. He opened the door.

Maia stood there, with a thick woolen blanket draped over her nightgown and a candle clutched in her hand. Hart was at her hip, and she glanced at him with frantic eyes.

"Jester, you have to come, and quickly. _They've_ been spotted. Lucius came back from his patrol. He had a brush with them who took your Jane," she took a deep breath, "Their camp is a mile from here. Godric went to check, and said to wake you."

Jester clutched the doorframe for support, his knuckles turning white.

"Is there anything else?" He asked. Maia nodded.

"Tiberinus is calling a meeting," she bit her lip. "I...they...Lucius saw Jane, Jester."

"He did?" Jester exclaimed, fear thrumming in his heart. 'How is...?"

Maia bit her lip again.

"I...I don't know," she said. "But come. We need to decide what to do, and quickly. Everything could depend on it."

Jester felt a lump rising in his throat, his mind's eye envisioning the nightmare.

"I swear I'll come, Jane," he whispered.

* * *

**Author's End Note of the Chapter: Again, please review. I'm curious about reactions and such. Critiquecritiquecritique, please! It really helps me to improve the story for you!  
Chapter 13 will be up. At some point. Like. When it's done. Which will hopefully be soon, seeing as I wrote like 1/10 of it last night. Anyways, hope you liked this chapter! :)**


	13. Sight

**Author's Note Of Apology: I know, I know. I am a heartless little witch (with a "B" where that "W" is in the word "Witch") for having made you wait this long. I swear it wasn't intentional. I DID NOT WANT TO ACTUALLY MAKE YOU WAIT UNTIL MAY. I DON'T _LIKE_ BEING ON THE SECOND PAGE OF JANE AND THE DRAGON STORIES! NO ONE READS MY STUFF, THEN! Haha. (Man...I'm feeling kind of shallow for saying that...) But...meh... these things happen. Very often with me, it seems, too. So for that I apologize.**

**So this may seem not as long as I had promised. That's because, at first it WAS going to be longer, but then, horrible person that I am (and I do apologize for that...) I found a nice place for a little cliffie. But, hey, at least I found out what's going to happen for somewhere between the next 1-3 chapters, and I even have a vague idea on where it will go after that (and I'll be introducing some characters that may appear in the sequal to this fic- YES, there WILL be a sequal, whether you like it or not. But that might take a few years...), so if I have time to write soon (which chances are I will NOT due to final exams and all that jazz) then at least I will have SOME idea of whatever the heck I was talking about and so once I come back to this, I will be able to write up more and thicken this already thickening plot. Phew.**

**Hmm...so. Really random, but I really like these characters. Haha. I feel like I'm really getting to know them, and especially for the ones that _I've_ created, there is so much that I want to tell about them but that information doesn't really have much or really ANYTHING to do with the story. Daannnnnnng. Ah, well. _C'est la vie_.**

**I should probably shut up now, as I usually tell myself to, huh? I've already made you wait long enough. Thank you again for all the reviews. You have no idea how much I love each and every one of you and how much I LOVE to hear from you- your critique has very much shaped this story and its characters. To the person who asked me when in the name of "DANIEL BOONE'S SWEATSTAINED BUCKSKINS" I would upload this chapter, I must say that you made me giggle very childishly for about twenty minutes straight, and believe this chapter would not be up without you. Haha. I feel like I'm giving some sort of speech like celebrities at the Oscars. Oh dear...-_-**

**Anyways, I am going to join in the bullhorn rant that started on the comments page (which also made this chapter get its butt out of bed and onto the web. Props to those who started it in those two comments!) and scream at myself to shut up until the end where I will have a nice little end note telling you to review this story and all that stuff.**

**Cheers! :D**

**

* * *

****  
****Sight**

Dread was a poison, insidiously cruel as it corrupted Jester's thoughts with nightmarish images; thoughts of Jane, beaten and most likely raped, sent convulsive shocks of pain and terror through his already battered heart. It had been seven days now. Maia had promised him at least two weeks, six days of which would be spent in travel. But how accurate could his sister's Sight be?

_Please_, _let Jane be alright_, he prayed silently, as he sat shivering slightly in the thin tunic he'd pulled on. Chills of cold fear ran up and down his spine, and he shut his eyes as if to block out the hideous thoughts. His hands were fisted tightly on the table, knuckles white as he fought to control the impatient anxiety that seeped through him.

"Un...ka?" Hart's tiny voice sounded hesitant, as the infant's small hand tugged fervently on a fold of Jester's breeches, in attempts to prop himself up. Jester smiled wearily, picking the child up and holding him in his lap. Blue eyes -_the same as my eyes_, thought Jester- gazed back at him from his nephew's face, with an unspoken question alight in them. Silently, solemnly, the child patted Jester's cheek as if in reassurance. Jester sighed.

"Un...ka. Je...ta. Dahb... wurd. Dahl ap."

"Un...ka," Jester murmured absently, repeating Hart's nonsensical baby talk, as he waited for the others to arrive for Tiberinus's meeting, "I wonder what you mean, little one..."

With a gust of frigid air, Tiberinus swept into the room, banishing Jester's musings. The lordly gypsy was followed closely by Wymund, a sour-faced Maurus, Maia, Ippolito, a robed man Jester recognized as Père Matthieu, Juliana, and finally Amice and Lucius. The black-haired man sported a fresh slash across one cheek, and his lengthy hair was slick with rainwater and mud. As his solemn eyes met Jester's, he inclined his head.

"I...you... _Jane_?" Jester's breath was agitated, fearful, his heart thrumming like the wings of a hummingbird as he fumbled over his words. "We must-"

"Peace. Before we rush to arms, we must hear this tale from its beginning so that we might use the proper judgement," Tiberinus chided gently, laying a fatherly hand upon Jester's shoulder.

"I...of course. Forgive me." Jester murmured, biting his lip as he handed Hart to Maia.

Lucius sat down on the opposite side of Jester, his dark eyes displaying for a moment a wisdom that seemed to be of a thousand lifetimes.

"Jester, I understand that this must be a trying time for you," Lucius's deep voice was gentle as he directly addressed Jester for the first time. "I can only imagine what you are going through. If Léon or Cliff, or any other scoundrel for that matter, got ahold of Amice...well, I would want to rip them apart with my bare hands."

Jester nodded, his silence agreeing with the raven-haired man's words.

"To continue," Lucius said, "As you would all know, I had a brief run with Léon's men, Cliff among them, during my evening scouting. I counted a total of sixteen men on the return to their main encampment... as well as two captives."

There was an audible gasp from within the room.

"_Two_ captives?" Jester asked, flabbergasted. Lucius nodded grimly.

"Aye. Two women, bound and gagged. Heaven alone knows how Cliff managed to lay his claws on the second, for I'd think her to be perhaps a merchant's daughter, one with a quiet fire about her." He shook his head sadly, as his wife applied a poultice to the wound across his face. "She wasn't one to simply walk into Cliff's waiting arms, but yet he somehow managed to steal her away. Even from a distance, it was clear her resolve was weakening. I could see it in her eyes; she'd almost given up." He shook his head sadly.

"The other, though, had obviously been putting up a fight. Her spirit was strong within her eyes, even from a distance, and she kept her head held high despite the bruises across her face."

Jester exhaled slowly, hearing his own blood rushing in his ears.

"Jane." He murmured, without the trace of a question in his voice. He already knew who Lucius spoke of, the woman who was hurt but would not give up. Jester almost smiled, thinking of how Jane would be fighting for her life, digging in her heels every step of the way. For, how could she not?

"I would believe so," Lucius said, "for she matched your description perfectly, and the red hair was unmistakable." He shook his head again.

"Moreover, once I had spotted them, I was swift to return to bear my tidings. Alas, that was when I found myself face to face with a seventeenth man. A scout. I managed to notch an arrow, but as it struck his neck he let out a great cry, and so I spurred my mount, Farrad, away. Alerted in the camp, a few gave chase, one of them loosing an arrow which grazed my face. And so I return. I do not doubt that they might break their camp tonight and drive onwards."

Silence pressed down upon the gathering, a heavy cloak.

"Maia," Tiberinus's voice was low and uneven, betraying his worry. "Maia, can you tell us how much time we have?"

"I...I...Oh, good Lord! Forgive me, uncle. I can't see _anything_. Everything is shifting, hazy. It changes from moment to moment." Frustration edged the blonde's words, and she frowned deeply, the look in her eyes focused on something seemingly faraway.

"We _must_...Tiberinus, please..._Jane_!" Jester exclaimed, looking around the table at each of the faces he had grown to love in such a short span of time.

"Jester, I wish I could tell you that we could rush to arms, but we _just do not know_ as of yet. We cannot simply run into their camp blindly," Tiberinus said gently, before turning to Maia.

"Maia, do you know when Godric is to return? We need his counsel on these matters greatly."

The woman blinked, staring at nothing for a moment.

"It...should be any moment now," she murmured, cradling Hart to her.

No one spoke for a moment, the consistent sound of rain rushing to patter on the roof of the caravan tumultuously loud.

"Tiberinus." Maurus was the first to break the silence, and everyone looked up, astonished. Maurus cleared his throat loudly before continuing, his eyes flickering from his father to the door and back. "Godric does not know of this meeting. He left before it was announced. Shall I go out to meet him? To direct him here?"

Jester glanced at Maia, confused, but his sister seemed to be focusing on another place, far away.

"What brings on this sudden surge of goodness, Maurus? T'was not long ago that yeh scorned Jester's presence." Wymund's words were thick with suspicion as he addressed his brother, who shot back a venomous glare.

"If you _must_ know, Wymund, I have merely thought over my behavior. It was...unacceptable. This is simply my way of making things right," Maurus said icily, returning his gaze to his father. Tiberinus sighed heavily, his eyes trailing over every face.

"Maurus has a point, Wymund," the lordly gypsy said at last, his voice quiet with thoughtfulness. "Very well, Maurus, my son. Go out to await Godric's return. He is desperately needed here."

There was a soft shuffle as Maurus got to his feet, the leather of his boots padding heavily across the worn floorboards. Another icy gust of wind, and he was gone.

Jester sighed heavily, his hands clenching and unclenching on the tabletop. The wood was weathered beneath his palms, smoothed by frequent use. Leaning his head atop his hands, Jester was glad for its solidity.

"What will we do?" He murmured, feeling as hope washed away from him like the tide, ever growing and yet ever slipping through his fingers.

"Why, _mon fils_, we will do what we can. What we must." A gentle hand fell upon Jester's shoulder, and the blond looked up into the wrinkled face of the French priest. Jester felt the deepest awe as he looked into Père Matthieu's face. There was such a peace that radiated from it, like beams of light, and such a love there, that calm immediately took hold of the young man. It seeped through him like a balm upon tired joints and battered bruises. The priest smiled kindly, patting Jester's shoulder. "What we _must_. I, for one, will pray, and God Almighty will, be it in his will, grant us victory. Do not lose hope, _mon fils_. There is always hope with God on our side."

Jester nodded, grasping the priest's hand.

"Thank you, good Father," he said, as a candle was lit within his heart. Hope flickered, a small, steadily growing flame.

"_De rien, mon fils, de rien_." It is nothing, my son, it is nothing.

"This reminds me...to do 'what you can'..." Tiberinus trailed off, before turning to his son. "Wymund, you are in charge of Jester's training. How does he fare?"

Wymund turned to look at Jester, stroking his beard thoughtfully. His mouth was set in a determined line, and his eyes seemed distant.

"Hmmm...well, the lad _'as_ improved. But 'e can get careless, 'specially with the staff. Th'shortsword, now that ain't as bad. 'E might be able to keep 'is own if 'e is smart about it, an' with a few well placed cuts. But, the lad isn't good enough to be stupid."

Ippolito grinned at Jester.

"That, my friend, is high praise from Wymund," the Italian laughed. "The man does not like to give out the compliments. You must have done exceptionally well within these few days."

Jester grinned back.

"Why, thank you, Ippolito! And you, Wymund, my cousin. The pair of you are too kind!" Jester exclaimed, glad for a playful lull to ease the tension.

There was a slight perplexed pause.

"...Cousin?" Wymund asked, his brows raised. Jester opened his mouth to respond, then shut it, remembering that he had not had the chance to reveal the news that night. Jester glanced at his uncle, and the man stepped in, explanation at the ready.

"Yes, Wymund, my son. Jester is kin to us, the first child of Kassian and Tatiana," the old man chuckled, nodding his head towards Maia, who sat with such an expression of shock that Jester could not help but grin full-out at his little sister.

His little sister...

An elated pride seemed to bubble in his chest. The comfort that lay in knowing he had a family- that he was a big brother, a cousin, a son, an uncle, a nephew, even- struck him deeply, like a perfectly tuned chord on his lute piercing the air on fine summer's night. It was as if a part of him felt whole, and yet in that wholeness there was also a vast void of questions.

"I...I....y-you..._what_?" Maia half shrieked, her voice rising in pitch. Her eyes were wide, large pools of turbulent water churning with emotion. A mix of confusion, love and pain mingled in her gaze, and suddenly she rose to her feet, handing Amice the child in her arms and moving towards the doorway.

"My...my buh-brother..." she smiled feebly, looking close to tears. "I...please, f-forgive me. I simply ne-need a moment." Putting a hand to her face, Maia turned out towards the tempest. The sting of the icy wind felt good, as she allowed the rainwater to blend with the teardrops that trickled down her cheeks in rivulets, and over the broken smile that slipped across her face.

* * *

The ground beneath his feet was thick with mud. Rainwater splashed violently across his vision, blurring tree and stone alike into massive green-grey shapes. He grunted as he slipped onto his back, and violently spat out the taste of mud from his mouth. He had fallen at _least_ a dozen times over the indistinguishable roots and rocks. Mud-spattered and drenched to a numbing point, the figure paused for a shaky breath beneath the dark foliage of a thick copse of trees. He was unsure if he was being followed, and drew his dark cloak closer around himself, glancing about warily. He knew that, should he be caught, he would most likely be beaten, if not killed. But, according to what he had heard, there wasn't much longer to go. If only he could maintain the pace over the rough terrain a little longer, his goal would be accomplished.

Just a little further...

Shaking his hair to rid himself of as much of the rain as possible, his trotted forward, clinging to the shadows and offering up a silent prayer to whatever force might have blocked out the Silver Mother, the orb of the goddess Artemis, that shone from the skies above. Stealth and speed were his only hope, and seemed on his side. As long as they did not recognize his departure a few moments longer, then he knew himself to be safe...

At last, his eyes fell upon his goal, an encampment and with a triumphant cry, he drove himself forwards.

* * *

"Tiberinus!" Godric's voice was hoarse, as he stumbled through the doorway, tailed closely by his wife. He was spattered in mud and rainwater, with tiny scratches from branches littering his cheeks. His lengthy brown hair was drenched with water, plastered against his face in rain soaked strands, and he seemed to be shivering.

"Godric!" Jester half-leapt from the table, before finding his seat once more.

Maia clung to her husband's side, her arms wrapped tightly around him, and he leant down to kiss her forehead tenderly while he removed the heavy woollen cloak from around his shoulders. It would take days, Jester noted to himself, for the garment to dry properly.

"Godric, what news is there?" Lucius's voice was grave with concern, his dark eyes piercing as he handed Godric a flagon of mead to shake the chill. Godric sat down heavily on the bench, rubbing his eyes tiredly before answering.

"In brutal honesty, news is not of good humor, my friends." He took a swig of mead. "But, then, it is not as terrible as we might have feared. It seems that Cliff is not willing to travel in this curst weather, which should work to our advantage." He smiled tightly.

"Of our advantages, most of the men are drunkards, indulging in enough drink to make them give up their self-control to Dionysus for hours upon end, and then suffering from the after effects of cheap wines and scanty beer enough to make their minds throb. They are lazy, save perhaps a half-dozen, and for now shelter around their tents, playing dice as they wait out the weather. Their guardsmen are few in numbers, for all that they have been alerted to our presence. Obviously they have not seen us as a threat." He chuckled, low and dangerous. "I should add that I overtook three scouts, separately and without drawing attention to myself. The bodies have been disposed of, and so now their numbers have dwindled to mayhap fifteen known men."

Jester nodded, his hands fisted tightly beside him. If he got his way, there should not be a man left standing among them.

"And of Jane?" Jester said softly. Godric grimaced.

"It appears," Maia's husband said, "that the captives -for there are two women, if Lucius has not mentioned already- are guarded heavily within the center of the encampment. From what I could tell, they were both bound, and the redheaded woman was gagged."

Ippolito grinned at Jester.

"She must have quite the sharp tongue, your Jane," the Italian teased. Jester smiled sadly.

"You have no idea..."

Ippolito clapped Jester on the shoulder.

"Ah, but Jester, I do. Eleonora, my wife, is a fiery little thing of a woman. Untamable temper, that one, and the sharpest tongue I have ever come across." He grinned impishly, and Jester found himself grinning back despite himself.

"That reminds me, brother. Where _is_ the missus?" Juliana teased playfully, poking her brother sharply.

Ippolito muttered something about beauty sleep, pushing his sister's hand away as if they were children.

Suddenly Maia gasped as if in pain, a pottery flagon slipping through her fingers and shattering with a resounding echo. She braced herself against the table, her knuckles white. Her face grew pale, her eyes widening.

"Oh...my...God protects us," she swore mildly, before crossing herself quickly. The gypsies all froze, their heads revolving to where Maia stood frozen, her eyes fixed upon the unseen.

Godric was the first to respond, leaping to his feet and drawing an arm around the slender woman's shoulders.

"Maia...Maia, my love. What is it?"

"I..." She turned her face to her husband. "Godric...I...it's Maurus. He... is gone."

Ippolito laughed nervously, glancing from both Maia to Jester to Tiberinus.

"Gone? Gone where?" He said. Maia fixed him with her ghost-blue-eyed gaze, looking distant and withdrawn.

"He has... gone. To them. I...Maurus...good Lord, Maurus...has betrayed us."

* * *

**Author's Little End Note While She Cackles Evilly Over This Cliffie: Mwahahahahaa- ...erm, I mean... Heh...Like I said, I'm sorry for the cliffie, but I HAD to. HAD TO HAD TO HAD TO!**

By the way, in case anyone didn't understand all that gibberish about "Dionysus" and "Artemis" and...well, I think that was it for these random people: I was using some greek mythology. If you did not know already, as a really brief side note:  
1) **Dionysus was, in the Greek Panthenon, the Patron God of drinking/wine, and one of the twelve Olympians.  
2) Artemis, also known as Diana, Selene (the Titaness) and countless other names, was the Goddess of the moon, fertility, hunting, and a variety of other things.**

**Ta-da. So I actually do some real research on these kinds of things. Inspired mostly by sites like Wikipedia. Haha. Plus, we were just talking about inserting Greek Mythology into writing during one of my courses this week, so it's kinda fresh in my mind...**

**Anyways, as always, now that you've read, please review. Even randomness keeps me writing (i.e. Even if you didn't care about the story, saying something weird like "I have a pet rock named Sir Billy Jimmithy Flintsterson" would make me laugh enough to get into a writing mood.) Haha, okay, even _flames _would keep me writing, for all that I might go cry in a corner. Haha. Just kidding. But, yeah, no, please review. AND ALWAYS SCREAM AT ME IF YOU DON'T HEAR FROM ME WITHIN TWO WEEKS! Yea-ah.  
I'll hopefully be back soon with chapter 14!**


	14. Fearless

**  
Author's Note: After many, many, way too many long months of Ballad-less moments, I have brought you the awaited Chapter 14!!! Yay! Forgive me for the wait, because I love you. I understand that I am a terrible person. That is why I have started Chapter 15 already and I am going to email it to myself in case my laptop charge cord breaks again (yes, I tracked down a new one finally), or in case it gets another rogue virus that the tech guys can't get out (yup, I just got it back today from them. They had to WIPE IT CLEAN, and so naturally I was just a little super freaked out. Whoever makes these viruses need to go get lives. Find a girlfriend/boyfriend. Get married. Get real jobs. Stop ruining other people's happiness. Because it's freaking annoying, and I hate it, and-... And I'll shut up my anti-virus-maker-schpeel.) Many thanks for all of the comments. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. Again. Sorrysorrysorry. Iloveyou for sticking around and waiting for me.  
Uhmmm...let's see. I'll just tell you all a few things before someone points them out. Teehee. YES, I do know that in the 9th Century, they did not use contractions (I'm, they're, we'll, etc.). Do I care enough to go back and check and re-check to see if I got lazy and put them in by accident? Noo. Ha ha I'm lazy. I don't edit my work. Especially this one. There are probably so many mistakes because I just kind of wrote it and uploaded it and I didn't really give a crap about specifics because I'm tired and it was 11:11 eight...no nine...or rather, ten minutes ago and I was too busy making a wish about some lovely people. Ha ha.  
So, here's chapter 14. Read, enjoy, spaz at the end because I decided to be unfulfilling. I apologize.  
And...I want to go write some more, so cheers.  
-XOX, Mintermist**

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**Chapter 14  
****Fearless**

Gold coin. That had been the plan, to goal, the purpose. To give it all for that which glittered. And, really, what had he received for his measures? The man feebly spat a foul mixture of blood, tears and mud from his mouth, wincing as his wrists were chaffed by the rough, braided rope bonds that kept him here in his state of humility. Rainwater was a stinging ointment, as it ran in tiny streams down his torn up back, over the bruises inflicted by the constant onslaught of feet and fists and wooden staffs.

He shut his eyes, suppressing shame and bitter tears as the weight of his actions drove down on him, pinning him into place. What had he received? The thought was angry and desolate, as his mind responded in agony. All he had brought about was a large and very possible serving of death. Not merely his own, but that of his father, brother, mother, beloved wife, cousins...his family's death. He balled his hands into fists, the ragged, dirty fingernails digging into the flesh of his palm, praying to whoever might hear him that he would be given a chance to atone for his actions.

A booted foot dug sharply into his shoulder, and the man looked up from his low place in the mud, grimacing at the sight that met his gaze. The cold eyes of a murderer smouldered like a viridian shade of poison. Venemous.

"Get up, yeh worthless swine." Cliff barked, the healing slash on the right side of his face contorting with the words. "Léon and you has some business to attend to, I do believe." He smiled cruelly, as Maurus's eyes widened in fear.

* * *

The caravan was the pinnacle of chaos. Not even Kippernium Castle was this agitated on Market Days, Jester noted with grave humour.

Horses were hastily being tacked, bows were strung, hatchets and the odd blade packed. Raincloaks were handed about, and Jester huddled under his, unsure of what to do, sitting on the steps to the dining cart. He ran his hands along the hilt of the shortsword Smithy had given him, packed for the journey. He had barely begun training with it, but had the general idea and prayed that some angel might guide his hands and the strokes the blade might make.

His eyes grew sad, as he watched couples embracing, promising to return safely and to deal justice upon the highwaymen, and Jester swiftly made count of those who would take part. There were nine in total, including Jester himself. Wymund and Godric would lead the group, wielding staffs and shortswords at their hips should they need them. Lucius bore a bow and a few throwing knives, as well as a staff upon his back, and his wife Amice was determined to march alongside him with a staff. Linota, the wife of Maurus, had declared that she also would venture into battle, to both redeem her family as well as to search for her husband. Her eyes flared with determination as she strung her bow with deft hands. Tiberinus and Ippolito bore swords of a beautiful appearance, which Tiberinus has purchased from the Moors in their conquered lands to the south, and to Jester's surprise, gentle Octavia would also join in the fray with a bow.

"Five minutes before we depart, Jester!" Ippolito called over the pounding rain.

Jester squinted skywards, grateful for the cover of the rain despite the bone-cold chill of it. It would give them cover, to muffle their steps and cloak them against guards; cover that they would need, as they had the underhand in numbers.

A sudden angry outburst sounded to Jester's left, and he turned his head to look, and then looked away swiftly embarassed. But, despite the thunderous sound of the rain, he could not drown out the heated argument between his sister and her husband.

"I _cannot risk losing you_, _Maia!_ Why can you not understand?"

Maia made a strained, furious sound, before she shouted back. Jester tried to cover his ears, but it was to no avail.

"So, what? You think I can risk losing you? You want me to just watch you skip off into battle all happy-go-lucky-cheery, while I sit at home quietly sewing by the hearth?! Maybe receive a swift vision of you falling to the ground, or being pierced by a blade? Is that what you expect??!"

"That is _exactly_ what I'm asking you to do. Yes, we know it is a risk, but I would prefer _you_ safe, my love. Risk one rather than both."

"NO! I am coming with you."

Jester winced at the tone of their voices, and stood up abruptly, dodging and ducking through the array of arms, horses, and caravans with an agile grace.

The pain was sharp and acute about him, thickening the torrent of rainwater, and he writhed inside to know that he was the source of it, its epitome. The sorrow... the fear... the _anger_ about him were toxic, noxious fumes added to the storm. His fingers trembled at the force of emotion, and he grasped the hilt of his blade for courage, murmuring a silent prayer for safety and protection over his family.

"All will be well, _mon fils_," Pere Matthieu's voice spoke with a solemn gravity, as the priest stood stooped in the doorway of one of the caravans. A lantern hung suspened in the grasp of one of his wizened hands, its soft glow radiating hope. "Go with my blessings." He outstretched the other hand towards Jester, before hobbling his return into the caravan. Jester had the merest glimpse of candlelight before the door closed against the elements.

There was so much fear, so much at risk…

"Jester! Are you ready?" Ippolito's voice resonated through the din, and Jester cast a long glance at the camp, his eyes memorizing each aspect of his temporary home, his temporary happiness. This place, this beautiful, vibrant caravan had fulfilled in him a portion of his past. He had a family. A family who loved and would sacrifice everything for him. For his love for Jane.

_Oh, Jane…_ He grimaced. She, despite her skill and ability, was a young bird face-to-face with a tomcat; vulnerable and helpless in her position. His nightmares flashed before his eye, bile rising in his throat and melding his courage to the sticking place.

"I am." His voice seemed to echo in his ears, as if spoken by another person within the great halls of the most ornate palaces. It was calm and confident, despite his inner self quaking in terror…fearless, the very antonym of the mere boy who had left Kippernia not so very long ago. As if by their own accord, his feet steered his body towards the sound of Ippolito's voice. He drew his cloak about himself, bracing against the wind and rain. Long strands of sopping blond hair were plastered against his forehead, his blue eyes icy against his tanned skin.

The horses pawed the ground, while Ipplolito waved Jester over. He handed Jester the braided rope bridle of a large, bay stallion. Muscles trembled with anticipation beneath its dark, russet coat, and it regarded Jester with an indifferent disdain.

"His name is Bishop," Ippolito said, running a hand over the horse's neck. The creature tossed its head, and nudged Ippolito's shoulder affectionately. "Bit of a proud fellow," the Italian continued, "but trustworthy and level-headed."

Jester reached out, placing a tentative but firm hand on Bishop's neck.

"Hello, old chap. I do not ask that you bear me long or far, but merely bring me to my Jane, for better or worse." The horse sniffed Jester, buffeted his chest, and turned away, clearly satisfied that he was neither a threat or a foe.

"Mount up, we will depart within moments." Ipplito turned, gathering his blade and mounting his own horse, blowing a tender kiss in the direction of his wife and child.

"Cloak yourselves," Tiberinus called, taking the lead beside Lucius who led the pack.

"Good luck, brother of my beloved," Godric said with grave humour, riding close to Jester. "I pray we come through this all whole and well, and that we might sit 'round the table with warm food in our bellies and good company once more."

"God willing, we will," Jester said, grasping his blade once more.

Fearless.


	15. Nearly

**Author's Note: Woohoo! An update within what...two-_ish_ weeks? Mind you, I admit this is kind of a filler one too. I swear, it was _going_ to be the Rescue. But...well...I'm tired. And lazy. And I want that part to be exciting and well written for you, which I am completely incapable of doing today because I wrote out a six page essay earlier about Jane Eyre and her character for English, and then proceeded onto a multi-page math test, and then re-wrote the English essay to make it neater because I didn't like how it was written. And after that I went to the gym for an hour and a half. And did ALL of that off of the energy of a single apple eaten at 6:55 AM because I need to go grocery shopping (which I don't have time for)...and I'm still rather loopy and I shouldn't be ranting to you about my day. That's what blogspot is for... Ah, well.  
Again, spelling errors are out of laziness because I don't want to download a spell checker and I am far too tired to do that at the moment. I am thinking coffee would make my life, as would carbs, because my house has been void of those two quantities for about two months now.  
Anyways, enjoy the nothingness.**

**_xoxo, Mintermist  
**

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Chapter 15  
Nearly

_Inhay-ahle._

Violent, searing lights exploded across his vision with each breath, accompanied by the throbbing of a thousand white hot flames.

_Exh-exhale._

The pain was a monster, a beast, a dragon, clawing out the flesh of his back with the cruel claws of brutality. The raucous, drunken cheers of the inebriated, vile crowd still echoed, deleterious, in his ears. Violent humiliation was their sport, as he relived the second beating he had endured.

_In-inhale_.

He had been such a fool…

The first beating had simply been a warning, he knew. A statement of dominance. The second… thrashing… if that was a gentle enough term for the obscenity that had occured, had been the result of a wounded ego, overconfident and thus insulted by the idea of danger.

_Exha-ale_.

"Oh…Lin-ota…" he murmured his wife's name into the cold, wet earth he lay sprawled upon. Wind and rain pounded down upon the scrap of soiled cloth serving as the prison of a tent. "I'm…so so-orry.."

_Inhal-le_.

His cheek pressed down upon the gravelly dirt, rocks imprinting their form onto his skin and mud smearing a poultice across his bruises. His eyes roamed deliriously about his confinement.

That was when he saw her, his Linota, sitting crouched in the shadowy corner of the tent, and he knew that he was either dead, hallucinating, or mad. Her red hair flamed like a corona, and her face, half hidden in darkness, bore an expression of fierce gravity. She stared at him with an intense pity, but he could not understand…why was there a cloth tied about her mouth? Why were her wrists bound, and week-old bruises mottling her skin?

"Lin-ota," he called to her hoarsly, stretching out his hand to her, his nerves screaming in agony.

She looked at him with bewilderment etched and apparent in her eyes, and shook her head wordlessly.  
And then it struck him.

The bewilderment in her gaze was nothing short of fear and apprehension. A silent question danced fearfully in her gaze. "_Who are you_?"

This…this was not Linota.

The darkness of his pain overtook him before he could make the connection.

Before he could identify her, his red-haired source of jealous error.

She was none other than Jane Turnkey.

* * *

Adrenaline pumped through Jester's veins, frigid spring water fresh from the mountain peaks. Cold fury, and the flashes of his nightmares, drove him forward, nullifying his fear. They had been riding so long that Jester had lost track of time. He only knew that he _would_ find her, no matter the cost. Despite his inner tremblings of what _could_ be, what _might_ be, what very well _may_ have occured...

His heart had been twisted in a perpetual knot as of late, and even now it lurched.

Jester shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts, before their insipidness could penetrate his defenses. "Steady…" he murmured to himself, a phrase which he fondly remembered Jane uttering countless of times during her sparring matches with Gunther. And the villainous practice dummy.

He chuckled bitterly. To think that once he had been frightened by the mere possibility that Jane might prefer Gunther… and that now, he wished more than anything that he _were_ Jane's fellow knight apprentice, in order to be better equipped for such a situation as this.

"Al' right there, lad?" Wymund's voice was pensive and uncharacteristically thoughtful, as Jester's cousin manoevered his horse to ride beside him.

"Mmm? Oh…yes, I am, I suppose… just…rather nervous."

"'Course y'are. Everyone is, their first battle."

"But, do not worry, Jester! As they are the overconfident buffoons we know them to be, we could very well steal in and out of there quick and easy, and be back home in time for breakfast!" Ippolito's voice was cheerful and optimistic in its tenor, cutting through the rainfall, and Jester couldn't help but smile in return.

"Just remember wha' I taught you with that sword. If all else fails, hack an' slice like you're juggling fer dear life," Wymund advised, before edging his horse, Dryfter, to the front of the band. Jester's cousin exchanged a few words with his father and Lucius, before Lucius called for a halt.

The group dismounted below a copse of trees, huddling beneath their cloaks.

"We are quickly approaching the camp," Lucius said solemnly. "We know the men to have caroused this night, drink flowing freely as the rain. This is our time to strike, swift and strong." He etched a diagram into the earth, pointing to their positions. "The central firepit is _here_, so we will enter in two parties from the south and the west. The river and cliffside back their northern and eastern exits. Tiberinus, Wymund, Godric and Amice, you will enter from the south, closest to the firepits in the shelter of the cliff walls. Move swiftly, and let your skill with the staffs strike not to kill whenever possible. Save swords for those that are coherent. We do not want to descend to the murderous level of these vile pigs who masquerade as men and fully slaughter them." He spat into the earth, a mark of his distaste for the brigands. "Linota, Octavia, and I will cover you from the treeline with our bows, striking from behind when they are concerned with what is before their eyes." Lucius withdrew six of his ten throwing knives, and passed them between Jester and Ippolito.

"Speed and tenacity is your goal. Jester and Ippolito, and make for the tents with these. The prisoner tent should be obvious. Four guards stand about it, a pitiful scrap of cloth. Use the knives, for I know the two of you have true gypsy hands and are capable of throwing them with precision. We will join you shortly thereafter to deal with Cliff and Léon. Does everyone understand?"

Jester nodded grimly, as Lucius added more instructions, and the party disbanded into their specific groupings.

"Ready?" Jester asked Ippolito, dismounting from Bishop and bringing him into the hidden cover of the tree line. Ippolito followed suite, with a brisk nod.

"Aye, as much as ever. May fortune smile upon us."

They slipped into the trees, ducking and dodging branches and mossy ruts. The massive oaks, evergreens and elms stood thick and impenetrable, towering walls of foliage, and the twisted roots below their feet wove into intricate patterns. A tapestry. A labyrinth. A jigsaw puzzle…

A reminiscent smile ghosted onto Jester's face, as his feet nimbly picked their way through the uneven terrain. Memories flooded him, full of the comfortable blue of his general attire, of red hair, of autumn evenings huddled in Pepper's kitchens sampling stew, of lazy summers spent by the lake…

"_Jester!" _The Jane in his memories called to him from the past. _"Do come along for a night flight with Dragon and I!_" He could remember all too well the eager gleam in her eyes, the camaraderie in her stance, the red corona whipping about her thin face in the evening breeze. And he felt once again the fearfulness that had coursed through his veins. A flight? At night? On Dragon? With Jane? With Jane! Yes! YES! A…wait…a flight? Heavens…no…that was just too-

"_N-no thank you, Jane…I really..uhh.. must finish this ballad_.._you know, for the King..and..all_.." The lame excuse had fallen from his lips before he had had time to think them through…

He chuckled quietly to himself as he and Ippolito crouched behind a thick evergreen, before a heavy wistfulness fell upon him.

What a coward he had been.

He prayed his courage would hold tonight. That cowardice would not pervade his actions tonight. Or ever again..

"A little further," Ippolito murmured, after they had maintained their hidden crouch for nearly fifteen minutes.

Jester bit the inside of his cheek, as his ears picked up raucous laughter, and he flexed his muscles as they crept forwards silently, shaking all stiffness from his joints.

The brigand camp in the clearing was evident, a ramshackle arrangements of huts and tents. Jester grimaced, his eyes passing over the miserable conditions. Jane..oh, dear Jane. She was somewhere here…_there_! Jester swiftly pointed out the meagre tent. Four men stood about it, two of them drinking deep swigs of some hard liquer, and the other two chatting idly. Discontent was awash upon their unshaven faces, and Jester had a hard time controlling the desire to burst from their concealment and rush into the tent. Jane must be there! Jane! Jane! Jane!

"And now we wait, I suppose…" Jester muttered, taking a slow breath to calm his tingling emotions.

"That we do," replied Ippolito, nodding to the firepit. The first party had not yet emerged…and Jester ground his teeth in anticipation.

His eyes were fixated upon the sole fire, huddled next to the cliffside out of the rain just as Lucius had said it would be. Six men lounged about it, clearly drunk as they sang crude songs of buxom women and flowing mead. If Lucius's estimation that there were fifteen men remaining, including Cliff …that left four. Perhaps sleeping or scouting… Jester grinned without realizing it.

There was not much remaining of this band…

"Jester," Ippolito nudged him, pointing to the enshadowed figures emerging into the clearing. "It is time."

Adrenaline and hope broke out across his frame.

He was nearly with her.


	16. Jane

**Author's Note: ...Not even gonna say anything. Read on, my lovelies!****

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**Chapter 16  
****Jane**

The triple-braided ropes about her wrists burned, digging angry red ruts into the flesh of her wrists and ankles. Try as she might, she could not manage to free herself from their grasp; no matter which tricks and contortions she attempted, the knots here were too strong, too tight, too intricate.

A muffled oath attempted to escape Jane's lips, but the desolate frustration was muted by the foul excuse of a gag the brutes had shoved into her mouth.

The very thought of them, these so called "men", caused a deep rage to simmer within her, boiling her blood within her veins. They were nothing short of animals. _Vile, flea-ridden brutish pigs at that_, Jane thought scornfully.

Her gaze perused the confines of her prison for the thousandth time, and lingered on the man. Welts, blood and mud were plastered across his skin…clearly he was no friend of her captors. Which left one resounding question bouncing about her mind…

Who on God's green earth was _he_?

Jane grimaced, her aggravation of the situation mixed with her curiosity and fear, before she continued her routine and futile task of check, check, and re-checking the pitiful tent floor for something to help her escape. And yet, as always, there was no sign of a sharp stone. No dagger had magically appeared. Solely the cold, gravelly earth stretched out in emptiness.

_Think, Jane…think_… She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to recall if her knight's training had ever covered a situation quite like this, and if it had ever mentioned the means to extricate oneself. _Come, now, Jane…be resourceful. How would Sir Theodore get out of this?_ She felt a slight twist of shame in her gut; Sir Theodore would never have been so careless as to have landed himself in such a position as this. _Let alone, he would never have endangered both himself _and_ a companion_.

What had become of Jester? Guilt, shame, and regret squirmed uncomfortably within her. She had failed. She had failed, and been thoughtless and edging on cruel at times. She had promised the king that she would protect him; that was the purpose of her leaving Kippernia with him on this journey. What a miserable excuse of an escort she was proving herself to be…

Sighing, she looped her bound arms about her knees, drawing them close to her chest. Perhaps she deserved such a fate as this; after all, she had failed the Knight's Code, she had failed this mission, she had failed her best human friend and the young man she loved most dearly. But, Jester? He deserved nothing of the misfortunes that Fate had served him. She could only pray that he had survived; that he had not died of wounds or by attack or by starvation would be a miracle in itself.

_If Heaven would hear me, I ask only three things_, she prayed silently, blinking back the sea of raging emotions within her,_ Let him be safe. Let him in time come to forgive me. Let him be happy, wherever he is._

A sudden crashing commotion rattled her from her thoughts, and Jane looked up swiftly, eyes wide in alarm.

* * *

Three of the six men about the fire had fallen, crumpling into unconscious heaps upon the stony ground when their skulls came into contact with the solid _thunk!_ of Wymund, Godric and Amice's staffs. Tiberinus fended off two men, swiftly dispatching the more-inebriated one with buffet of his sword hilt. His silver hair and blade gleamed majestically in the firelight, and the spirit of a true warrior-of-old sparkled in his wise eyes as his swordsmanship overtook the more sober of the two men.

The sixth man, incoherently drunk, simply sat swaying on the ground at the foot of the cliff where he had been, taking deep swigs from a canteen and hiccoughing as he gazed dreamily at the fray.

From Jester and Ippolito's position at the edge of the wood, they saw two of Jane's four guards split off from their position; one sprinted towards the fireside fray, and the other towards the largest tent near a copse of trees in the northern side of the camp.

"That'll be Cliff's_…_" Jester breathed, his grip tightening around the throwing daggers. If the man had so much as laid a _finger_ on Jane, he would have Jester to answer to.

They waited for a heartbeat of a moment, as Cliff and the guard— Chaunce, he recognized, from their earlier encounter— went to rouse the rest of their men, and barreled past Jane's tent.

"_Now_, Jester!" hissed Ippolito, ducking out in between the tents. Taking one last breath to center himself, Jester followed suit, ducking from tree to tent, weaving in and out of sight. The rain muffled the crunch of their footsteps, but Jester was more than certain that his heartbeat, hammering a tattoo against his chest, was loud enough to be heard for miles upon end.

Suddenly, Ippolito swore, twisting and sidestepping the entrance of one tent on their right and slashing downwards with one of his knives. There was a muffled grunt of pain, as one of the brigands, exiting his tent, staggered backwards, and Ippolito kneed the man in the skull.

Looking up to Jane's tent, Jester's veins filled with ice water and his lungs froze over; they had been spotted. The guards let out a cry of alarm, withdrawing their crude clubs. Reacting purely on a hint of fear and a healthy serving of adrenaline, Jester raised one of the throwing knives in the air and, shutting his eyes, threw the blade for all he was worth.

Time seemed to freeze. Jester could practically hear the silver weapon slicing through the air, turning, turning, turning…until it met its mark, embedded in the shoulder of one of the men. Opening his eyes, he saw that Ippolito had done the same, only his blade was followed immediately by another. Had this simply been a practice skirmish in the courts, Jester's jaw would have dropped in astonishment at the speed that the Italian threw the blades. Gunther, who was a very skilled archer, could not have shot his arrows so swiftly. One had scarcely left his grasp, before the next was flying after it, each of his blades embedding themselves into the guards. Silently, one man fell, red liquid bubbling and oozing from his chest. Jester swallowed, ignoring the bile that rose in his throat.

_Jane…remember Jane_, he thought, focusing on not being ill. Brushing a strand of soaked hair from his eyes, he blinked through the rain enough to throw another blade into the chest of the other sentinel.

Ippolito launched past him, withdrawing his shortsword and clipping the man with it.

"Jester, go!" He called back through the rain; his voice was muffled as he drove the guard back and dodged swings of the man's club.

He needed no second telling; Jester dashed to the entrance of the tent, feeling like singing and dancing and cartwheeling and crying and laughing all at once. _Jane Jane Jane Jane Jane!_ The thrum of his pulse sang, every nerve-ending on his body alive and wired.

His hands fumbled at the entrance flap of the tent, and he almost laughed aloud to see them shaking before he slipped inside.

Green. Beautiful, breathtaking, terrified emerald green was the very first thing to meet his gaze, and Jester's felt his heart stop, break, mend and melt as though he were consumed by dragon fire within the most perfect moment of his life.

"Jane," he whispered.

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**Author's End Rant That I Would Usually Put In The Beginning But You Know What? Forget That Today!**:

**WOOOOHOO! Chappie 16 is here for you at LAST, m'dears (I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry for it's stupidity-and-non-appearances. And I'm sorry in advance for anything slow in the future. There. Now I don't have to be a broken record. Teehee). Thank you for the patience, the feedback, the promise of cookies, the veiled threats, the deliberate threats, the pleading, the screaming, the I-HATE-YOUS, and for being overally amazingly supportive.  
****  
Man..can I say that the thing about fanfiction is that it really stretches your endurance and skills as a writer (which is the main reason why I write it. Asides from the fact that it is cheaper than therapy and that I love you all and love the characters. ;D)...I can't believe how long it's taken to get HERE. I remember writing this LAST summer at crazy times like 2 AM...4 AM...6 AM...times like it is right now. And here we are again?**

**Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter. The next one will be up...whenever it decides it wants to get up. Stories of mine really have a mind of their own, you see.**

**Cheers!  
XOXO, Mintermist**


	17. Rescue

******Author's Note:******** Yay yay yay! I am rather pleased with myself for uploading two consecutive chapters within a few days. This one is really short- 'twas gonna be longer, but I am ridiculously exhausted so...yeah, this is what you get. Cheers.**

**-Mintermist**

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**Chapter 17  
****Rescue**

_Who…? Wait…what? No…it is not…not possible…how could he….how could _HE _be _HERE_? Impossible. Impossible. Impos—_

"J-jester?" Jane felt a shroud of incredulous stupefaction descend upon her, her words coming out as a muffled "_Jhusjur_" from behind the horrendous gag. There was a boulder-sized lump lodged in her throat, as she blinked at the waterfall that began cascading down her cheeks. He was here. Against all odds, he was really, honestly, truly _here_.

"Jane….Jane…_Jane_!" Jester grinned like the fool he was –or perhaps the fool he had been— as he repeated her name, before he leapt out of the entryway of the tent, crossing the length of it in two strides. For a moment he said nothing, simply taking her face into his hands and losing himself within that beautiful viridian gaze. Green met blue, as Earth meets the Sea, the rightness of it all rooting deeply within them both. At last he spoke, his words sheepish and quavering.

"I…I've come t-to rescue the fair maiden." He smiled sweetly, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead and removing the gag. "Here…see?" He withdrew one of his daggers, proceeding to work at the bonds at her wrists and ankles. The ropes fell away as though they were as feeble as a spider's web, and Jester gingerly took one of Jane's hands into both of his, examining the angry red marks left by her imprisonment. "I'm sorry for this," he murmured, tracing a finger from her wrist to palm. "I'm sorry that I let them hurt you."

A broken sob escaped Jane's lips, her fingers intertwining with his and bringing his hand to her lips to kiss it.

"J-jester," she half-choked on his name, her voice hoarse from the days of silent screaming and indignant cries issued from behind the gag.

"Shhh, love. Shhh, I'm here," he soothed, taking her face in his hands once more, his blue-ocean-eyes drowning in emotion; relief and fear, love and pain. His thumb caressed her cheek. "I'm here, and we're together now, and nothing…and nothing can change that. Ever." He smiled warmly, the light and intensity in his gaze brightening the dismal, dreary tent like sunlight breaking through the clouds. Jane could feel the warmth of it spreading through her, with the happiness and joy she remembered so well. It had been the memory of such happiness that had kept her will strong and alive.

Gently, he pulled her onto his lap, locking his arms about her. The light in his eyes flickered for an instant, and he buried his face in her bedraggled hair, closing his eyes.

"I was…so…so very _afraid_, Jane. I thought that I was going to lose you," he said. His words came slowly; full of the anguish he had carried within him as he waited in the past weeks. He breathed in sharply, relief exuding from his very aura, and moved to rest his forehead against hers. The joy, the grief, the jubilation, the pain…each emotion colored and shaded the canvas of his face. "I love you," he breathed. Never had the words rung so true and so deep.

She turned his face to look at her, her gaze swimming with fresh tears. "Jester," she murmured, her arms snaking up his chest, as she snuggled closer to him. "I…I love you. More than you could possibly understand. More than you could ever know." Her lips found his, shy and sweet, and his arms tightened about her. "I missed you," she breathed, her fingers twisting into his rain-soaked blonde hair, her lips moving faster with a frenzied passion. Elation washed over Jester, leaving him rather light-headed. At last, they broke apart, and Jane hid her face against his neck.

"You have no idea how I missed _that_…how I missed _you_." Jester grinned at her, before scooping her up and rising to his feet with her in his arms bridal-style.

"Time to rescue the fair maiden," Jester chuckled, the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders as he held her.

"Wait! Jester…wait…we cannot leave without Ava! She is the other girl they captured; a merchant's daughter, and most likely the reason I have remained sane. We kept each other defiant. And most definitely bruised…" Jane's expression was full of alarm, as she clung to him. "And we cannot leave without him, I suppose." She inclined her head towards the unconscious figure of the man in a dark corner of the tent, who had been completely unnoticed by Jester. Sprawled awkwardly, the man began groaning deliriously. "I haven't the slightest idea who he could be," Jane continued, as Jester stepped closer and felt his stomach twist and knot.

"I do," he replied darkly, holding her closer. "That, dear Jane, would be a traitorous son-of-a-bog-weevil…well…erm…in better words, that would be my cousin."

* * *

**Author's End Note: I hope you liked it, in it's cheesy, fluffiness. Ahhh I need to write some more cheesy oneshots...they are just so fun! But, now I'm off to bed as it is about 4 hours past the time I should have been asleep. XOXOX**

**-Mintermist**


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